Family Secrets
by enigma013
Summary: Kayla has been searching for answers about her parents' mysterious deaths, which leads her to a small town teeming with secrets. As she makes friends along the dangerous path of finding answers to her past, she realizes not everything is as it seems.
1. Chapter 1  Incessant Bad Luck

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf**

**Full Summary: Kayla Dering has been searching for answers about her parents' mysterious deaths, which leads her to a small town teeming with secrets. Unbeknownst to her, her life is at risk, and she has many new friends—and possibly someone that's more than a friend—to look out for. But as everything unravels, who is really guilty of what? Can she handle this new world she's entering, or will it consume her? Derek/OC**

**A/N: For anyone who wondered what'd happened to my previous story titled 'Family Secrets', I apologize. I took it down to modify it quickly. This is a new version, and I highly recommend reading the first chapter over, because it's different in many ways. You will, however, note that I did keep many things. Sorry! And please let me know what your thoughts are! Lack of response somewhat prompted the change…**

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><p><strong>One <strong>

_Incessant Bad Luck_

Rain drummed onto her car rhythmically, falling like tiny shining silver bullets in front of the headlights that broke up the darkness on the empty road. In the driver's seat, she glared ahead at the smoke rising from the hood languidly, intermixing with the rain. Normally, she'd laugh at her incessant bad luck. It wasn't news that the absolute worst thing that could happen, usually happened. But tonight, her dark mood paralleled the blackness that'd settled into the woods, fencing her on this road.

Beside her, Karma was distressed. The dog's usual glossy, German Sheppard coat is casted in shadows, grey and matte. She kept nudging at the window with her nose, whining and squirming about.

Fear pricked in her stomach. Karma's panic-stricken state was a sign of what was surely waiting for them outside, watching from the voids of blackness. Trees loomed up above them, towering, swaying beasts in the rain. It wouldn't be much of a stretch of the imagination to see one come to life. At least it'd be less monstrous than the unrelenting things that haunted her thoughts and dreams. Things she couldn't believe, and yet the facts were so very clear.

Huffing, she rested her forehead on the cold steering wheel. Really, she wasn't one to complain about rain. However, the prospect of attempting to repair her old beat-up car in it wasn't too appealing. Especially not in the dark of the night, in a place she was completely unfamiliar with, on a road she didn't even know the name of, with the shadows shrouding monsters in its depths. However dreadful it sounded, there was no point in dwelling on it. There were only two choices: sitting in the car and wait for something to come and get her, or get the car fixed and let something else fall prey to its wrathful hunger.

She was about to open the door when headlights in the rearview mirror casted a glare into her eyes. Someone else was coming.

Without thinking about it, her hand went for the switchblade in her right boot, placing the smooth weapon calmly on the seat as her heart beat picked up. She dearly hoped they were only help, but couldn't help running through a list of all the other things they could be instead.

Their jeep pulled to a stop behind hers on the side of the road. Squinting, she could only make out a dark shape in the driver's seat as the rain began pelting down harder. When the door opened and a boy around her age stepped out, she actually felt a little guilty. He didn't have a jacket on to fend off the icy shower. Watching him in the mirror, she saw him shake his head comically, splaying sheets of water out in a spiral, almost like Karma might. Rolling down the window, she quickly tucked her blade back into her boot.

Bracing his hands on the side of the car, the boy peered in, his face screwed up in confusion. "You need some help?" At first, she was surprised. The confusion on his face turned to one of speechlessness, and his mouth hung open with stupor. She ignored this. He had honey-brown eyes that she could see easily in the darkness. There were gems of water clinging to his dark eyelashes, grouping them together to form wisps of a star. His hair was short; a buzz cut. He had the kind of face that was open and friendly, something she'd always been secretly envious of. Although she'd already assessed him to not be a threat, she now knew it for certain.

Giving him a rueful smile, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. Ugh. Nervous habit. "Actually, I do. I'm not much of a mechanic, and my phone died a couple hours ago. I'm kind of stranded."

His eyes widened risibly. Struggling to form words, he finally managed, "Have you been out here _that_ long?"

"Oh—no," She mended, amused by his strange antics. "I've been driving for a while, though. This only happened within the past half-hour."

Nodding, he appeared more at ease. A flicker of what seemed to be apprehension crossed his face as his eyes skimmed the forest. When he looked back down to her, it vanished, replaced by a crooked grin. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be sufficient with cars. If you pop your hood, I'll see what it is I can do."

"You would do that? For a stranger?"

He waved a hand in the air, a dramatic gesture, as he headed to the front of the car. "Yeah, no problem. Said stranger seems pretty nice to me."

Feeling utterly grateful, she popped the hood and pushed her door open to join him. If he was going to try to fix her beat-up car in the rain, the least she could do was keep him company. Once, her brother had tried to teach her the basics of mechanics by letting her reconstruct an old engine. She'd failed so awfully, there was nothing left of the engine when she was finished. It seemed his natural talent didn't run in their blood.

The boy had lifted the hood, and now stood examining the innards of the machine scrupulously. The set, determined look on his face kept drawing her attention to him, instead of the engine. A smile tugged at her lips, but she tried her hardest to quell it. It was like he was a doctor examining a patient; albeit a doctor with rain dripping down his face.

As he began noting some minor problems with the engine, she could feel the rain's icy tendrils seep into her hair, making it infinitely darker than its natural chocolate brown. She didn't have on much of a jacket, either, and within minutes, her clothes were soaked. She tried following along with his words, but for all she knew, he was speaking an entirely different language. Something about a spark plug and a crankshaft. Huh? He glanced up at her to see if she was following along, and she just nodded.

He smirked. "The slight glaze in your eyes gives you away, you know. My best friend usually gets that look in class, so I've come to recognize it. I applaud your attempt to at least _look_ like you're paying attention."

She laughed genuinely, and was surprised by his frankness. "You caught me. I have absolutely no idea what's going on. I'm afraid I'm a bit useless when it comes to these things."

He stuck out his chest intrepidly as he folded his arms across it and leaned against the car. Unceremoniously, he slipped and fell. His hand flew out to grasp a hold on the bumper, but the hood descended on it before he could yank it away. "Ow!" he cried, holding his hand to his mouth. There was a sheepish look on his face as he straightened up, brushing leaves from his sodden jeans. "Yeah… I'll go get my toolbox."

She watched as he headed back to his jeep, pressing her lips together to suppress a laugh. He was goofy. Her attention transferred to inside her car. Karma had grown more distraught, and was now whimpering and clawing at the door. Frowning, she wanted to soothe her, but the boy was returning with a bulky toolbox in his hands.

"This shouldn't take too long." He'd dropped the toolbox to the wet cement and selected a few tools from various areas. As he got to work, he spoke over his shoulder. "So, I don't really think I've seen you around before. Are you from Beacon Hills?"

"I'm new," she supplied, watching as he worked with ease. "I was just on my way in tonight, actually. It's really just my luck that this would happen. Although, I don't usually have any good luck, which would be you showing up. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Even as his back was to her, she could see his grin. "Just call me your good luck charm, then. Don't worry, I wouldn't mind in the _least_. In fact, I encourage it. Use me, abuse me… whatever your preference."

"Whatever you say," she said lightly. The blush that crept onto her face, even in the cold rain, was inexorable. She was just thankful he couldn't see her.

"So, new, huh? That explains it."

She couldn't decipher his tone. "Explains what?"

"You don't know about the new curfew," he replied, switching a wrench for a socket. He grunted as he twisted something before continuing. "Can't be out after nine-thirty. Police enforced."

Her eyebrows rose. "Seriously? Do people actually abide by that?"

The boy smirked. "Well, as you can see, _I _don't."

"And you haven't gotten pulled over or anything? Impressive. Do the cops really enforce it that much?"

The smirk broadened. "Oh, I've gotten pulled over plenty of times. By my dad, in fact. He's the sheriff. And trust me, they enforce it."

"Your dad's the sheriff?" She was truly impressed. "That's gotta be awesome. You know, getting out of things."

He snorted. "If you call 'getting out of things' getting serious lectures, I suppose you're right. It could be worse. And I _do_ have connections with the 9-1-1 dispatcher. She has a lovely voice. Really soothing to listen to. I can't say she'd think the same about me, though."

Laughing, she smiled down at this stranger. "What's your name?"

"Stiles," he said, half distracted. Then he turned and looked at her, honey-brown eyes alight. "Yours?"

"Kayla."

"Kayla," he repeated, looking thoughtful. "I like it. Well, Kayla, will I be seeing you around? You go to high school, right?"

Chuckling, she nodded. "Yes. The only one in town, as a matter of fact."

Stiles rested his arm down a moment, blinking in pretense of amazement. "Well, I'll have to introduce you to my friends. I personally take responsibility in commencing your new social life."

It was hard to resist a smile. He seemed like a pretty nice guy. "I would appreciate that." Was she actually making a friend already? The prospect was… newish. It'd been so long since she'd really had anyone to talk to, besides her brother and Slade.

Grunting again, a wrench clanked to the ground as he ducked his head in to peer at the engine. "Well," he said briskly. "Let's see if it works. Go ahead and start it."

Heading back to the driver's seat, she stole a glance at him. She could have sworn she heard him murmuring something, looking up at the sky, as if praying for the engine to work. Another smile threatened to quirk up her lips. She slid into the seat and twisted the key. The sound of her engine roaring to life made her grin.

"You did it!" she exclaimed, jumping out of the seat.

Stiles ran a hand through his saturated hair, looking relieved. "Doubted my handiness, did you?"

"Not for a second," she said genuinely.

He seemed pleased by this comment. After slamming the hood down, he got to work piling his tools back into the box. Hefting into his arms, he stopped beside her before heading back to the jeep.

"I've got to say, Kayla, it was _very_ nice meeting you."

Smirking, she cocked her hip and crossed her arms. "I sense something attached to your tone. Please, do be blunt."

"Well," he drew out the word, an undercurrent surfacing in his voice. "Here's where you take pity on me. You see, I'm going to have to ask for your number. For safety purposes, of course. Can't have you getting stranded out here again, can we? The pitying part comes in when I also insist that you take mine. How else would you reach me? And besides, there could be other emergencies. Say you need someone to watch a scary movie with at the last minute, or, since school's already started, you need help with your homework. You'll definitely need my number. Trust me. But of course, this offer is purely innocent. I didn't want it coming off differently. My heart belongs to another."

Biting her lip, she suppressed a grin. "And there you've gone, crumbling my hopes."

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Well, if you don't mind being the other woman, I suppose we could work something out."

She decided she liked this guy. Not like _that_, since it was obvious he was with someone, but as a friend. It'd be very nice to have a friend, especially before she started her first day at Beacon Hills High. "As appealing as that sounds, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. However, you need no pity from me. I of _course_ see your logic. Who else would I call, in case of those things?" _Especially since I don't know _anyone_?_

They exchanged numbers and bid goodbye until the next day. However, he'd warned her before he'd left. About being out too late at night, with animal attacks becoming increasingly common. One thing clicked in her mind, and she knew she'd picked the right town. Yes, there was so much more to Beacon Hills than met the eye. So much that was hidden in the dark depths of the forests.

An hour later, Kayla traded the looming shadows of the night for the dim lighting in her new home, off a nearly empty stretch of road on the outskirts of town. Karma had already settled in and was deeply asleep on the couch in the small living room. Every so often, her paws dug at the air, like she was running in a dream.

Standing at the intersection where the kitchen, dining, and living room met up, her hands on her hips, she surveyed her surroundings. It felt odd, really, to be in such a new place that was supposed to be her home. Though she supposed once she actually began living in it, it'd feel more welcoming. The house was surprisingly nice and came furnished with all the necessities. It'd only cost her a good chunk of her inheritance, but was well worth it.

The soggy clothes from earlier had been dispensed into a washing machine in a different part of the small house. Even though she was warm and dry in a t-shirt and sofie shorts, the feeling that something was still off remained. Karma obviously was no longer distressed, but that didn't mean the erroneous feeling had dissipated.

Drawing the curtains in each room, she only stopped a moment in her own to appreciate the fact that they were a thicker cotton instead of a sheer gossamer material. It felt safer, as if somehow they could shield her from the evil outside.

When she got to work quickly unloading the rest of her things, she made sure that a loaded pistol could be found in the kitchen drawer closest to the front door. The door, itself, had already been bolted locked several times, after she'd attached more security locks. The thicker kind; no human or animal could bust through without her at least being alerted to it.

Although she didn't have many weapons—really only her switchblade and the gun, because Slade had insisted it'd be too dangerous otherwise—she took note of the things she could use creatively, in case of an intruder. After her car failing, her nerves felt ready to burst. She was certain that something had been watching her. What it was, she didn't know, just yet.

After the quick inventory of items in the house, she returned to the kitchen. A box, unlike the other moving boxes, was perched atop the island counter, beckoning her. Every time she looked at it, the magnetic pull drew her closer. She succumbed to the pull, but did only that. The only time she'd ever sorted through its contents had been when she'd first been given it, years ago.

It was made of cherry wood and intricately carved with a forest scene. Every time her eyes wandered over the vista, she spotted new things. A rabbit skipping away here, dark, menacing eyes shrouded in the background there. Always something new.

Reaching out, she touched the delicate surface. Without opening it, she knew what lay within. The picture of her parents. The other things that haunted her. Taking a deep, deciding breath, she fingered the key strung around a chain on her neck. Beside it was her locket, but she ignored it for the moment. Bending down, she used the key to open the box.

The photograph sat in its place. Two faces beamed up at her, so familiar and enchanting. They looked so happy; the delight in their eyes was genuine. How could people be that way—so carefree and loving and content? That was the unanswered question that pricked at her, day and night.

Stretched out behind her parents was an old wooden dock, the only stem of a walkway leading onto the blue lake. Dense forest, analogous to what she'd see if she peeked outside, filled in the background. She knew that behind whoever had taken the picture was their cabin. The cabin wasn't far from here.

As her eyes scanned over her parents faces once more, a raw feeling of pain cut at her heart like a serrated knife was threatening to spill her blood. Tears stung in her eyes, the pain tracing its way to the tip of her nose. She quickly dabbed at her eyes, forcing the sadness down. She didn't have the luxury to fall apart. Not now. Because once she did, no amount of superglue would keep her together. There was no one to rely on to comfort her. No, now she had to suck it up and be strong. For them. For her parents.

Shutting the box with a sense of finality, she picked it up and made her way to her bedroom. She shoved the box and its unspeakable contents under the bed, where the darkness could blanket them.

The backpack resting against her door caught her attention. Seeing the ordinary item brought back thoughts of that boy. Stiles. Would it be any harm to actually make a friend or two? It wasn't like she was _only_ here for her own personal agenda… But she didn't want to drag anyone into her troubles. Everyone has something to worry about already, right? It'd be selfish of her to try and include them in something that _1._ they probably wouldn't care about, and _2._ they definitely _shouldn't_ care about. It was her burden to shoulder, no one else's. Maybe if she was extra careful, things would turn out all right.

She couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of doubt. There was, without question, so much more going on in Beacon Hills than most people knew. She doubted this boy Stiles even had any clue as to what was really out there. If she questioned her ability to keep herself from harm, how could she ensure he'd be safe?

Sighing, she rested her head against the door. She wished things could be easier, that they could go back to the way they were before, when her parents were alive. But it wasn't possible. The dead couldn't return from such clutches. Yet, there had to be some purpose to all of this, didn't there? She'd figure it out. If it was the very last thing she did.

Rubbing at her temples, she headed back to her room. Tomorrow was her first day of school. After that, she'd try to get to work. Unraveling Beacon Hill's secrets was sure to be quite an endeavor.

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><p>Grey dawn light had broken through a small gap in her curtains, shedding a thin line of light upon Kayla's closed eyes. She slowly opened them to discover her room glowing in deep shades of blue casted off the equally blue curtains shrouding her from the new day. The previous night, a cadenced chirping of crickets had lulled her into a deep sleep. It seemed that nature would be her constant, as well as her clock.<p>

Anxiety immediately swelled in her stomach. She had to go to school today.

Forcing herself out of bed, she showered and got ready, all the while dreading leaving the house. However, it was a Thursday, so she only had to suffer through two days of school before she had another two off. The thought alleviated some of her tension.

Karma was pacing around the kitchen. Upon seeing Kayla emerge from the bathroom, she grew excited, nudging at her food dish. Kayla quickly took care of the little things, checking the time so that she wouldn't be late.

Popping a bagel into her mouth, she went to her room one last time to ensure that her mother's box was still under the bed, and headed out.

Beacon Hills High was larger than she thought it'd be. After snatching up her backpack and heading in, the bell rang. Hallways soon emptied almost eerily. She found herself looking nervously around for the front office. Fretful butterflies surged through her stomach. It seemed that her first day wasn't going to go as well as she'd hoped. At a loss for what to do or where she was, panic nearly descended on her. Luckily, a man in a suit emerged from a hallway, with a friendly smile.

"You must be Ms. Dering. I'm Principal O'Brien. Come on, we'll get your schedule and get you situated."

Grateful that he'd managed to find her, Kayla kept up with the principal's leisurely pace and felt more at ease. He told her about 'the' sport to play (for boys)—lacrosse—and how their academics were more than exemplary. After receiving her schedule and discovering she had English first hour, he led her down several halls until reaching a doorway that read ROOM 504.

The anxiety she'd felt earlier returned in a rush, pressing on her chest like a weight. As the principal led her in, her eyes scanned the classroom. Some girls were blowing bubbles of gum, chomping on them and twirling their hair, while others looked bored, examining their nails or gossiping. Boys, of course, were chatting up girls or making paper air planes, shooting them at the chalkboard. Well, at least it wasn't like everyone was staring at her.

It wasn't until her eyes landed on a familiar face that she truly relaxed. Stiles had this class, too. He seemed in deep conversation with another dark haired boy. The conversation ceased when his eyes met hers.

"Oh, hey!" he shouted in a strange pitch, a grin breaking out on his face. The entire class stopped, utterly silent, to stare at him as he laughed uneasily, trying to fend off their hard looks.

As the teacher read off her name to the class, Kayla's face burned bright red, and she quickly found a seat behind Stiles. The moment she'd sunk into her seat, Stiles twisted around to face her. He seemed almost _too_ energetic, like he'd drank a gallon of caffeine. There was a lazy grin on his face.

"Kayla," he said. "I was just telling Scott—who totally didn't believe me," he gave the boy beside him a dark look, "about you." Stiles made introductions as the class commenced.

Scott looked dubiously between the two. "So _you're_ Kayla? He's not just paying you to say that? You really _did_ meet him, last night?"

At the last sentence, several other students threw them amused looks. Kayla ignored it. "Yes," she said slowly, a little confused. Stiles was scowling at Scott. "He fixed my car. Thanks again, Stiles. Seriously, if it weren't for you, I'd probably still be stranded."

Stiles gave Scott a pointed look before saying, "Absolutely no problem. I always make time for my _imaginary friends_. Pay up, Scott." He held his hand out expectantly, a tiny scowl on his face.

As Scott slapped a five-dollar bill in Stiles' hand, Kayla raised her eyebrows. "Okay, one, 'imaginary friends?' And seriously? Only five dollars?"

"Every friendship has its price," Stiles' joked. At least, she thought he was joking. "And Scott didn't think you were real. What was it you said specifically, Scott? That I had imaginary friends more real than some 'mysterious stranger I met in the dark?' He added something kinky, too, like—"

"Okay!" Scott interrupted sheepishly. "Okay, I think she gets it."

Stiles grinned a moment, then leaned into Scott with a conspiracy tone. "So, what do you think? This will definitely get Lydia's attention, right? New hot girl, sitting by me at lunch, looking mildly interested—"

"Wait—excuse me? Is _that_ why you helped me with my car?" Kayla wasn't sure whether to be upset, vaguely embarrassed, or simply amused.

Stiles' mouth opened comically, and he blinked between Scott and Kayla. Scott snickered.

"Well, uh, _no_. Like I told you, it's crazy dangerous out there. I couldn't leave one of my new friends stranded on the side of the road, could I?" Stiles covered quickly.

Kayla smirked. "Right. Because we know each other so well, it'd be heartbreaking."

"What _would_ be heartbreaking—"

"Mr. Stilinski!" the teacher, Mrs. Crowther barked. "Is your conversation so important that you have to interrupt my class for the fourth time this week?"

Stiles stared at her blankly. "Uh… yeah."

Mrs. Crowther threw her hands in the air. "Why do I even try?" she said more to herself, than the class. Then she shook a finger in the air, threateningly. "If I hear one more word out of you, then it's a detention for all three of you!" Spinning on her heel dramatically, she returned to writing notes about Macbeth on the board, pressing the chalk so hard that cracked.

Huffing, Stiles rolled his eyes. He mouthed 'at lunch' to Kayla, and faced the front of the class.

The hours seemed to fly by, and before she knew it, or really even welcomed it, Kayla found herself struggling to follow the school map to the cafeteria. She'd been so intent on figuring out where she was, she didn't realize someone was ahead of her until she bumped into them.

What little papers she'd held flew out of her hands, and she gave a cry of surprise as she fell back. A scarlet color crept onto her face immediately when she realized she'd also managed to knock the girl over.

"I'm so sorry!" she apologized immediately, embarrassed. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm a little lost—I'm _really_ sorry."

The other girl—a brunette with long, curly hair and a sweet smile—only laughed lightly as she propped up on her knees and began gathering the loose papers. "It's okay. Trust me when I say I've had my fair share of wipe-outs, too. You're the new girl, aren't you?"

Kayla gave her a wry smile. "Is it that obvious?"

Having collected all the papers, the brunette handed them over. Kayla stood and helped the girl to her feet.

"Well technically, I'm the new girl too. But since you're even newer than me, you can totally have the title. My name's Allison, by the way."

"I'm Kayla," she said. "But you can just call me a klutz, since that's what I seem to be. I hope you're okay…"

Allison laughed, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Yeah, I'm good. No worries. But your hand—is that a scar? Looks pretty serious. What happened?"

Without looking at her palm, Kayla knew what Allison was referring to; the star-shaped scar on the inside of her right palm. She was only surprised that no one else seemed to notice it, yet. "Uh… yeah, I guess," she laughed. "I've had it for about as long as I can remember. Couldn't really tell you what happened, exactly. Well, maybe I could, but I'm not sure if it's true or not. Long story." Kayla cringed. "Sorry, I talk a lot when I get nervous."

"It seems you and I have even more in common than being clumsy!" Allison joked. "I become Chatty Cathy the moment I get anxious, and it usually just gets worse from there. So you're on your way to lunch? Need a guide?"

"Yes _please!_ I've been wandering around hall after hall thinking I've seen the cafeteria somewhere, but I can't remember where! It's my bad luck. I swear, I was born with it."

Smiling ruefully, Allison gestured for her to start in branching off from the present one. As they walked, she said, "So I'm guessing your first day hasn't exactly been ideal."

Kayla sighed deeply. "I've been late to every class, my locker won't seem to open, some snobby strawberry blonde kept glaring at me in Biology, and I've tripped more times than I can count. I seriously do have bad luck."

"Sounds rough," Allison commented. She grinned. "You're in for more bad luck when I offer for you to sit with me. The snobby strawberry blonde—Lydia—happens to be one of my friends."

Hand flying up to her mouth, Kayla's eyes widened. "Again, I am so sorry! I didn't realize—"

Allison held a hand up, laughing. "Trust me, she _is _snobby. But she's not all bad. In fact, once you get to know her, she's pretty cool. So it's okay, because I definitely had the same reaction on my first day. Although, I can't say she glared at me... Did you say something?"

"Not a thing. But if you say she's cool, then I'll take your word for it."_ But… is this the same Lydia that Stiles mentioned earlier. Please let it not be…_

Allison pushed through burgundy double doors, leading into a room full of teenagers. The cafeteria. Silently, Kayla sighed in relief.

"So you'll sit with me, then?" Allison asked eagerly as they quickly stepped in the slow-moving lunch line.

"Sounds great."_ As long as I don't get my head chewed off._

After paying for their lunches, Allison led Kayla over to a table in the middle of the cafeteria. It was already filled, unfortunately, with Lydia, , a tall and dark-haired boy with kind eyes, as well as Scott and Stiles, who looked mildly surprised. Allison set her tray down next to Scott, and Stiles moved down to make room for Kayla. He seemed extra mischievous.

"Guys, this is—"Allison began.

"_You_," Lydia spat, her eyes narrowed and dark, piercing Kayla's. A silence fell over the table. "_You're_ the girl who did _this_," she help up a brightly colored purse that looked big enough to carry a small dog in, with a questionably muddy shoe print on the side, "to my new Prada bag. I ought to have you pay for it."

Stiles choked on his water.

"Uh… are you sure I did that?" Kayla was doubtful.

Lydia almost snarled. "Who _else_? And what are you doing with _mud_ all over your shoes? Hiking through the forest like some kind of animal?"

Peeking down at her tennis-shoes, Kayla internally sighed. "Well, technically, I was running…" _And forgot to switch my shoes…_

"You run in the woods?" Allison asked before Lydia could make another retort. "That's cool. So do I. Maybe we could go together, sometime."

Kayla couldn't help but smile at the kindness. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

Lydia appeared perturbed. "_Fun_? You think loping through the woods with some kind of animal out there is _fun_? When you get mauled by the thing, don't expect _my_ sympathy. I have enough common sense to realize it's a stupid idea."

"Are you really that afraid of the thing?" Kayla asked, not realizing she sounded challenging. "I doubt it'd attack in broad daylight."

Stiles started making feral meows, like they were having a catfight. Everyone gave him a dirty look.

"Well, then you obviously know nothing of mountain lions," Lydia said contemptuously, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

"Wait—did you say mountain lions? You think that's what attacking?" Having to suppress a laugh at the idea, Kayla covered it with a haphazard cough. Straightening up, she forced herself to be very serious. _Of course, not everyone knows. If they did, it wouldn't be called an animal attack, would it? _"I just mean, I would think a mountain lion would be more afraid of us, you know?"

"No, _I_ know better. I—"

"Okay," Allison broke in lightly, aware that most of the table's occupants felt ill at ease. Lydia fell into an irked silence. "So, what do you think of lacrosse, Kayla?"

"Lacrosse? You mean, like field hockey? I'm not really sure. I've never seen it played before."

"Well you won't be able to say that again," Stiles piped up beside her. He glanced at Lydia, almost _too_ obviously before continuing. "There's a game tomorrow night. Cheer us on?"

Scott gave him a curious look. Stiles didn't exactly play…

Kayla thought this over. Of course, it'd be great to get to work on what she came here for, but wouldn't it also be nice to make friends, and maybe keep them? Plus, she figured that since Stiles really did help her the previous night, she could stick her neck out (and pray Lydia wouldn't tear it out) to help him out, too. Although, Lydia didn't seem to be paying him much mind, at the moment.

"Totally," she agreed cheerfully. "Sounds cool. I'd love to go."

Allison grinned, popping a French fry in her mouth. "So, how do your parents like Beacon Hills?"

The cheerful smile on Kayla's face disappeared in a flash. Pain stabbed at her heart, and she set down her water shakily as she tried to force the sadness away. Her throat tightened as she pressed down her emotions, locking them up tight.

"Was it something I said?" Allison asked quietly.

Clearing her throat, Kayla shook her head. "My parents… well, I didn't exactly come here with them."

"You didn't? Did they let you come here on your own?"

"That'd be awesome!" Stiles exclaimed, amped up at the idea. "No rules, freedom to live how you want. No nagging or lectures."

Kayla averted her eyes. "It's been that way for a while, actually. They passed when I was little."

Silence. It was what she'd come to expect, though with each time, the reason seemed less clear. It was simply a fact she'd had to deal with.

"I'm really sorry," Allison said gently.

"That's really rough," Scott agreed. "I mean, losing both parents…"

"How did it happen?" Stiles inquired.

"_Stiles_," the entire table hissed, with the surprising addition of Lydia.

Shrugging, Kayla said, "It's okay. They were, uh, researching—it was what they did—when they were attacked. Animal attack. Ironically, people thought it was the very animal they were looking into that did it. It was a couple days before anyone knew, though, since they'd been in the middle of a forest."

Allison was frowning. "That's so sad."

Lydia, however, was perturbed. "And you aren't bothered by the animal attacks here? How is that even possible?"

Kayla's shoulders lifted in another shrug. "It's not that I'm _un_bothered by the animal attacks. But I'm not any more worried than any of you are. As my brother always says, it is what it is."

"Maybe your brother needs an extra dose of reality," Lydia muttered under her breath.

The topic then turned to the upcoming game. Stiles turned, speaking to Kayla in a friendly banter, studiously ignoring the curious glances of the other occupants at the table. By the time lunch wrapped up, Kayla had a more optimistic perspective on making new friends. Allison wanted her to join her and Lydia at the game to cheer on the boys, and Lydia didn't seem _too_ vexed by the suggestion.

Arriving home, Kayla scrambled to finish what little homework she'd had for the night. Karma, who'd been resting on the couch listlessly, hadn't lifted her head.

As the sun descended and the moon was mounting to take its place, Kayla had her mother's box pulled out, its contents scattered on the kitchen counter. For quite some time, she simply sat and stared at them, lost in the memories they served to show in her mind's eye. The picture of her parents, the letter meant for her written by her mother, her mother's leather bound diary that included personal thoughts as well as accounts and records of what they'd studied, and a few other baubles and trinkets mixed within them.

Her hand began reaching for the letter when Karma shot upright on the couch and immediately began barking. Flinching, Kayla swiveled around to face the dog, whose usual composure remained quiet and placid. Yet for some reason, Karma jumped off the couch and tromped over to the front door. A deep growl reverberated from her chest, and she turned into the viscous, deathly-loyal dog that Kayla knew she could be.

Things like this only occurred _before_ something bad happened.

Kayla stood as a nervous feeling pressed its way into her chest, making her heart flutter. She headed towards the door cautiously, pausing on the way to extract the hidden pistol from the kitchen drawer. Hiding it behind her back, she nudged Karma behind her as she placed her hand on the doorknob. The gun shook in her other hand and her heart pounded wildly against her ribs as she twisted the knob and slowly opened the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate some responses. (-:<strong>


	2. Chapter 2 Abnormalities

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**A/N: I appreciate every review I receive, so thank you very much! Here's the next chapter. **

* * *

><p><strong>Two<strong>

_Abnormalities_

All at once, the buildup of nerves collapsed. Kayla breathed out shaky laugh, relieved. Her heartbeat slowed until it was once more normal. The hand holding the gun settled at her side, completely steady. Nothing. There was nothing outside the door. No reason for Karma to be provoked, both literally and figuratively.

But then, why _had_ she been upset?

The scene before her was the epitome of tranquility. Leaves shook lightly in the faint breeze above; the moon was high in the sky glittering with stars, spilling grey light over the forest. If anything, it was the perfect time to shoot a scene for a romance movie.

That was, until Karma shot out from behind her and darted deep into the dark foliage. Kayla cursed under her breath as she ran off after her, slamming the door shut in her wake.

The forest was darker than she would have thought. After three minutes of full-out sprinting after Karma, she slowed to a walk. Breathing shallowly, the smell of pine was almost overwhelming, tickling her nose unpleasantly. Her senses felt dulled and seemed to take too long to adjust to the darkness. There was something else bothering her, too. Something creating an eerie chill that crept up along her spine.

The crickets weren't chirping. There wasn't any sound, save for her panting. She could no longer hear Karma tramping through the undergrowth. The realization immediately set her on edge. This wasn't right.

She completely stopped. Steadying her breathing so it was quiet, she glanced around, tense. She readjusted the gun in her hand, positioning it to be ready to shoot at any moment. Part of her considered heading back to the safety of the house. She would simply search for Karma tomorrow, that is, if the dog didn't return of her own volition at some point. But she knew it wasn't an option. She wouldn't leave Karma out here. Not during the night, when anything could be dominating the forest as predator.

Stiles' warning echoed in her head. He'd told her to steer clear of the forest, _especially_ at night. He wasn't even equipped with the knowledge she was, and he had enough sense to know it was dangerous.

At the time, she couldn't afford such sense.

Dead leaves littered the forest floor. Kayla had long ago learned to move without making a sound, back when Slade had taught her how to hunt. Those memory's, though very fond to her, weren't as fresh in her mind as she suddenly wished they were. As she tried to walk as silently as possible, she knew she was still making a great deal of noise.

Time hadn't allowed her to become familiar with the natural creatures of Beacon Hills yet. At every slight shift in movement within her peripherals, she'd flinch, yet still resisted the urge to point and shoot. So far, nothing had crossed her vision that could be bigger than a badger.

All of a sudden, Karma's panicked barks could be heard off in the distance, echoing throughout the forest. The only thought that crossed Kayla's mind was that her dog could have fallen prey to something, so she made haste. Ignoring how loud she now was, she raced through the shadows, over fallen logs and roots jutting out of the ground, ducking under low branches that swept at her face, until she came upon a clearing.

The sight nearly took her breath away.

Looming up above her was an edifice of a house, though its once grandeur looks were marred, transforming it into something out of a horror novel. Half of the roof seemed to have fallen in on itself. Pieces of siding hung of the building at precarious angles. Windows were either cracked, or completely missing. Even in the moonlight, the charred, blackened edges of the house were noticeable. And the yard around it paralleled the sad house: empty, morose. There wasn't a living thing in sight.

She could no longer hear Karma barking. A dreadful feeling settled over her.

A branch snapped behind her. Slewing around, she held the gun out, ready to fire. Her eyes only met an endless black void of underbrush. Where moonlight pooled upon a birch tree, she could see some of its branches swaying, as if roused by something other than the wind. Besides that, all was still.

She was about to dismiss the movement when a flash of two red orbs illuminated themselves within the underbrush. Her breath escaped her as a gasp. Just as quickly as they appeared, they vanished.

Her heartbeat was audible in her ears, and she felt lightheaded. What _was_ that? Could it have gotten at Karma? Right when she was about to head out after it, another thing made her heart skip a beat altogether.

"This yours?"

Pivoting on her feet to face the house once more, Kayla suppressed a scream. Her finger pressed harder on the trigger, and a round went off, embedding itself into the base of a tree all the way across the clearing. A kick in the pistol made her wobbly, and her eyes widened.

A man—the one who'd spoken—had jumped as if diverging from the path of the bullet, though her aim had been nowhere near him. Now, looking even more pissed than he'd sounded just a moment ago, he stood a few feet away from the dilapidated house's porch, with Karma by his side.

Kayla's mouth opened, but didn't form any words. His eyes were absolutely piercing; gray and dark in the moonlight, casted in shadows. He had raven black hair, equally dark eyelashes framing his hard eyes, and a tight scowl on his lips. As if to add to his dour appearance, his clothes were dark. He could easily blend into the night, if he'd wanted to.

His eyes narrowed at the gun in her hands.

"I've seen some shitty hunters," he said caustically. "But you're probably the worst, by far."

Confused, Kayla, too, looked down at the gun. It shook in her hands. _Hunters? _She supposed it was reasonable enough to assume she was poaching after hunting season had ended. What else would someone think a wild-eyed girl was doing in the middle of a forest at night with a gun? She didn't want to consider of the other possibilities.

When her eyes found Karma again, she spoke to the man. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to shoot." Meeting his eyes was like sticking knives in her own. She cringed. "She just ran off, and what with the animal attacks, I didn't want to come out after her unprepared. You startled me."

He seemed to consider her words. His stiff demeanor didn't change. "Right. Maybe you should consider actually getting _trained_ with a weapon before trying to use it. And think about putting your dog on a leash. This is private property. Keep her off it."

"I _am_ trained," she spoke defensively. Her voice sounded thin, much to her own disappointment. But something about this man's temperament irked her in the oddest way.

The man almost snorted. "Yeah, apparently not very well. Just stay off this property. And don't wander out in the woods at night. You never know what you might come across."

Karma trotted back to Kayla, nudging her possessively. However, Kayla didn't take her eyes off the stranger. "If it's so dangerous, then what are you doing out here?"

It was one thing to encounter someone, say, on a street at night. It was another thing entirely when that someone was in the middle of the forest, just a mile or so away from her _home_.

The man was silent for several moments, glaring. "I suggest you head back to wherever you came from. Now."

There was an undercurrent to his words, something hidden and arcane. It left her feeling shaky. Still, she kept her chin up. Nudging Karma back towards the house, she left without another word. Before getting very far, she glanced over her shoulder to find his eyes still on her.

A strange feeling of familiarity struck her, remaining in place the entire walk back. She tried to focus on their surroundings, but her thoughts continued to return to the peculiar stranger.

When the house was in sight with all the lights inside lit up, making the outside glow like a candle, she noticed the rustling in the foliage several feet away from them. The same flash of red orbs she'd seen earlier surfaced in the darkness.

Repressing a squeal of fear, she pushed Karma to the house, flung open the door as they clambered inside, and bolted it locked behind them. Resting her back against the door, she breathed heavily, relieved.

What _was_ that? It seemed almost unnatural. She'd never read any material on a creature with eyes that reflected light like _that_ before. Of course, she hadn't exactly had time to read up on Beacon Hill's natural inhabitants, so maybe she'd come across something.

Eying the materials she'd left unconcealed on the counter, a squirm of fear slithered through her veins. The night's events were only just settling in.

What exactly had provoked Karma into taking off into the woods? Who was that man? What kind of animal _was_ terrorizing Beacon Hills?

The questions were too much for her weary mind, and quite frankly, a little g troublesome. She'd only just arrived in town, and already her back luck was drawing strange things to happen.

Gathering the contents of her mother's box back together, she replaced them inside the safety of the cherry wood. Once she returned it to the cover of darkness beneath her bed, she noted that she'd have to find a better hiding place. There were so many things inside that box that could compromise everything she'd done to get here.

It was poignant, really, how such seemingly trivial objects could mean life or death. Of course, she knew the answers she sought would offer no safe haven when found. Slade had made that very clear. Nevertheless, she wasn't deterred. No one ever said the truth was pretty.

* * *

><p>"You look awful," Stiles stated, taking the vacant seat beside Kayla. It was first hour English, and the last place she wanted to be. Her arms were folded on the desk, and her forehead was pressed down upon them.<p>

"Thanks," she mumbled, not bothering to lift her head. "Are you always this charming?"

"A good sense of sarcasm," he applauded. "I find I always like that in a woman. Means we're compatible."

"I find that your attempts to be overt in flirting with me are simply lost on the fact that Lydia's not around," she deadpanned. There was a smirk on her face, nonetheless.

"Ouch." He grinned.

Scott arrived a moment later, seemingly worried. First, he regarded Kayla. "You look awful. What happened?"

Scowling, Kayla shot him a dirty look. "Well, why doesn't everyone just tell me how awful I look today? Really, I don't mind. In fact, say it again."

Scott shot a confused look at Stiles, who mouthed "PMS" not so furtively. Scott was perturbed.

Groaning in frustration, Kayla set her head back on the desk. "I didn't sleep last night."

"Oh, and I couldn't figure _that_ out on my own. I mean, it's not like the dark circles under your eyes aren't a dead giveaway or anything," Stiles commented. Scott kicked him. "What?" he asked innocently. "If she's going to make Lydia jealous for me, I need her looking one-hundred percent her best. If that means I have to apply makeup to you myself, then so be it."

Now Kayla kicked him. "First, don't talk about me like I'm some object. Second, who said I was going to make Lydia jealous for you? For all I know, _she_ could be the animal attacking everyone. She nearly bit my head off yesterday for _accidently stepping on her purse_. Her purse! As if it's life or death! I can't imagine what she'd do if something worse happened."

"Hey, now," Stiles chided. "Lydia's just… complex. It takes a really insightful person to understand her."

Neither Scott nor Kayla could restrain their sniggers.

Stiles' scowled. "You just have to get to know her better," he said to Kayla. "And you," he said to Scott, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, you know, since you only bother to get all physical with her in Coach Finstocks _office_!"

Kayla raised her eyebrows, looking at Scott. "I thought you and Allison looked chummy yesterday. Was I wrong?"

"_No_," Scott said. "What happened with Lydia was… weird. And I thought you totally forgave me for that, man?"

"I did, I did," Stiles' allowed. "I'm just saying."

Kayla looked between them warily. "You guys are really something."

They shrugged. Returning her attention to Scott, Kayla queried, "You looked worried when you came in. Is something wrong?"

Scott exchanged an uneasy look with Stiles'. "It's nothing," he said slowly.

Giving him a disbelieving look, Kayla rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get it. We met _yesterday_. I suppose I'm crossing some kind of line, acting like I know you."

"It's not that," Scott reassured her. "Actually, you seem pretty cool. It's just… uh… yeah. It's guy stuff."

Kayla, fighting a smile, averted her eyes to her textbook.

Stiles groaned. "Great. Now she thinks it's _that_ kind of guy stuff."

The dark haired boy with nice eyes from the lunch table the previous day sat ahead of them. He twisted around, giving Stiles a pointed look. "What's wrong with _that_ kind of guy stuff, Stiles? I seem to remember you asking me if I thought were attractive the other day."

"And you never answered the question, Dani!" Stiles complained.

Dani rolled his eyes and turned back around. The strange conversation evinced a wickedly amused expression on Kayla's face.

"What?" Stiles shrugged.

The three fell into silence as Mrs. Crowther began assigning a project. Afterwards, she announced that everyone should pair up. Stiles suggested that Scott work with Dani, pairing up with Kayla himself.

Kayla cocked an eyebrow.

He sighed. "If you keep giving me suspicious looks, no one will think you're into me."

"Imagine that," she laughed. "Please tell me you have some idea about what the project even pertains to. Don't think I missed you exchanging notes with Scott."

He grinned. "Well, with that kind of perception, there's no doubt that _you_ know what the project is. Partner," he added with a wink.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, she implored, "Tell me you have a favorite sonnet or poet. Since we have to interpret a few, I'd rather you'd be familiar with them."

"Sonnet? You mean like the Shakespearean or Elizabethan kind?"

Eyes snapping open, she became hopeful. "Exactly."

Stiles frowned. "Well, I can tell you the two types, if that's helpful."

Her face fell. "Not at all. We're lucky it isn't due for two weeks," she muttered.

"Hey, now," he intervened lightly. "Don't lose _all_ hope. This class is, like, charity. We'll just go over some of _your_ favorite sonnets."

Kayla nodded, but wasn't enthused. It was obvious that this was an attempt to make Lydia jealous, or at least catch the beautiful girl's attention. She just hoped she got out of it alive and intact. Although Allison had interceded for Lydia's conduct, it didn't leave much of an impression.

An hour before lunch, Kayla was entering the Biology lab. The girl in question was poised upon a stool, one leg resting over the other, showing a great deal of skin in a pink miniskirt with her hands laced in her lap. She may have the guise of benevolence, but looks were deceiving. The moment Kayla had stepped in she'd felt the intense glare of green eyes settle on her. Luckily, Scott had this class, too. She managed to find a seat near him, just across the aisle.

His brow was still furrowed with worry, producing small creases in his forehead. With his eyes on the desk ahead of him, unfocused yet pensive, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. A sense of peculiar concern coiled up in Kayla's stomach. Maybe it was the fact that, when truly looking at this boy, he was another version of her older brother. Conflicted, uncertain, yet kindhearted and sweet.

Kayla leaned across the small aisle just as the bell rang, signaling the class beginning.

"Scott," she whispered, catching his attention. "I know you said it was guy stuff, but are you sure you're okay?"

Scott took a moment to register her words. Finally, "Yeah—yeah, it's fine. No worries."

Nodding, Kayla sat upright in her seat once more, tearing her gaze away from the brooding boy beside her. Mr. Harris, the teacher, had already started a monotonous lecture on meiosis and mitosis.

With her eyes roaming the room, it wasn't long before they landed on the strawberry blonde. Perhaps she would have simply surpassed the girl, if it wasn't for the hard stare fixated on herself. There was a certain arcane air about Lydia, turning Kayla's thoughts astray to the mysterious man she'd encountered only the previous night. But, quick to steer them back to the present, she watched Lydia's eyes narrow.

Checking her shoes, she noted that she'd traded her muddy running shoes for a decent pair of converse. Which meant that she couldn't have possibly stamped one of Lydia's purses, again. Could that really be what the voguish girl held against her, or was it something else entirely? Was it possible that she had true feelings for Stiles, yet wasn't eager to share such feelings? Why were thoughts of such drama worrying Kayla, anyway? There were much more important things to think about.

Distracted by her thoughts, Kayla flinched when the bell rang. Blinking around, she realized she'd missed the entire lesson. By the look on Scott's face, she wasn't the only one.

Finding the cafeteria had proved much easier today. Allison stood inside the entrance, searching for something.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, immediately heading over to Kayla and linking arms together. "There you are. I felt terrible when I realized I came here without you. But you seem to have found it without any problems, today."

"Yup," Kayla smiled. "I made sure I paid attention when you showed me yesterday. I actually managed to get to my classes on time, for the most part."

Allison laughed as they headed over to the table, food in hand. "You're catching on quickly."

Arriving at the table and grabbing a seat, Kayla noted the boys looked uneasy.

"What is it?" Allison asked, sensing the anxiety immediately.

After exchanging a furtive glance with Scott, Stiles scoffed. "It's—uh—this _food_, obviously. I mean, can it get any more cliché than this? What the heck is it supposed to be, anyway?"

Allison looked at what Stiles was waving around in his hand. "Stiles… that's a hamburger.

Stiles muttered a weak remark, dropping the hamburger back to his tray.

When Lydia arrived, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sat down, Stiles scooted his chair closer to Kayla's. "So," he said loudly. "About our English project. I know a lot of people might consider this, but why don't we look at some Shakespeare? I've always thought he captured the true essence of love better than most poets."

Kayla gave him a curious look, but played along. Maybe they wouldn't do too terribly on the project, after all. "Actually, those were the sonnets I intended to look at. He has an entire collection. I've always thought the same, too."

Stiles nodded seriously.

"What are you two droning on about?" Lydia asked in a bored tone.

"Oh—we're partners for English," Kayla answered nonchalantly, praying she was doing whatever she was supposed to correctly.

Scott scowled. "Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For totally ditching me."

Looking at him innocently, Stiles replied, "I have no idea what you mean. Kayla asked me to be her partner—how could I possibly turn her down?" He gestured at her as if saying: look at her.

Stomping on Stiles' foot, Kayla glared at him. He shoved his fingers in his mouth, barely hiding the pain.

With the sudden silence, she looked around, noting the tension that'd built in a matter of seconds. And it was with Scott and Allison, that much was obvious. Although she'd seen them in passing time, chatting amicably and smiling and laughing, it was so very clear that there was something between them. Could that be what Scott was worried about?

_Do I even know these people well enough to wonder?_

That was a question she'd tossed over in her head since English. It'd only been a day, but her perception prevailed even in the times she wished it didn't. Which was mostly why she didn't seek out these things, but happened upon them.

Transferring her attention elsewhere, she found herself gazing out the window. A sheriff's car was parked in the front of the school.

"Stiles," she said, not taking her eyes off of it. "Is your dad here? You said he was the sheriff, right?"

Stiles grew confused. When he saw where she was looking, he shrugged. "Oh—yeah, I guess he's here. Couldn't tell you why though."

As it'd happened several times that day, an image of the stranger from out in the woods the previous night dredged up in her mind. Maybe it'd be wise to have the sheriff send patrols to the area, just to be sure. And who knows?—maybe they'd find their 'wild animal', if it had freakishly red eyes. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.

"Do you think you can introduce me to him? You see, something really weird happened last night—"

"Kayla!" Scott interrupted suddenly, making everyone flinch. He ran a hand through his dark hair, disheveling it. His eyes held panic as they flicked between her and Stiles. "Uh… Can I talk to you a moment?"

"Um… yeah, that sounds fine," she said slowly. Standing she hurried to follow a briskly walking Scott out to the hallway. Stiles was on her heels, giving a sheepish look to both Allison and Lydia.

Once out in the empty hallway, Scott's panic only seemed to intensify. Stiles had his arms crossed, looking utterly serious for the first time. It only served to make Kayla more edgy.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously. "What's wrong? Is this about earlier today?"

Scott looked uncertain. "Yeah… it's just—well, this is going to sound weird. But you're going to have to trust me—_us_."

"Okay…"

Stiles nudged Scott with his elbow, nodding at something behind them. Kayla turned to see a fair-haired jock watching them intently. Though he looked very handsome, the look on his face was particularly off-putting. A flash of disdain appeared in his eyes when they met hers.

Perplexed, she returned her interest back to Scott and Stiles. Their expressions were facsimile to one another: wary eyes, deep frowns.

"Later," Scott said hastily. "We'll talk about it later. Can you stick around after the game, maybe? Or are you free tomorrow?"

Kayla considered this. "Tomorrow might work better. Besides, Stiles and I have to get to work on the English project anyway."

"Tomorrow it is," Stiles nodded. "My house. I'll text you what time."

Scott and Stiles returned to the lunch room. Before following them, Kayla paused and glanced back down the hallway. The jock was lingering there, eyes on her. Then he turned on his heel and left.

After returning home and caring for Karma, Kayla let the dog outside and eagerly retrieved the box from beneath her bed. There was plenty of time before the game later that night to do some research, yet not enough to ponder the abnormalities of the day if she wanted to get to work. She unlocked the lid as she walked, heading for the plush couch. All thoughts of school vanished the moment her eyes focused on its contents. Plopping down on the couch, she pulled out her mother's dark leather bound diary.

Loosening the fine leather string that kept the book's contents from spilling out, she flipped to the first page. The handwriting was large and loopy; she ran her hand over it, as if connecting with her mother. When she finally focused on the words, a terribly sad feeling descended upon her. Her mother could never have known the tragedy that'd befall her and her father, when they first started out.

"_August 23__rd__, 2004_

_Well, we've arrived. Beacon Hills, California. Mark decided to stop at the local grocery store to pick up some things before heading to the cabin, so here I sit, in the parking lot. _

_I only just got off the phone with Slade a moment ago. I know he's growing tired of these spontaneous road trips, but doesn't he understand how vital it is? Of course, the last couple times were a complete bust. They'd only been rumors and __actual__ wild animal attacks. But I have a good feeling about Beacon Hills. I know this town has a secret—the precise thing we've been searching for. I only wish he'd believe us._

_He does take care of the kids. I need to give him some credit for that, since we're usually gone for a month, at the very least. Before we left, Kayla begged us to stay. Thomas didn't say a word. I was conflicted, but I know this is the right thing to do. We have the ability—the knowledge—to help people. We must do that. The kids will understand, someday. . . . . ._

_August 27__th__, 2004_

_The last few days have been simply wonderful! Oh, the cabin is so lovely, and the small lake it sits on is absolutely picturesque. I wish the kids could be here. _

_Mark went back to talk to the doctor at the hospital for information. Apparently, the pack we've been looking for—a family, actually, like I suspected—lives in the middle of the Preserve. The doctor said there's actually a house built back in there, hidden by nature. He'd only come across the people because one of them had been brought in to the emergency room once. A girl had been shot with an arrow, he said, and as soon as he'd removed the arrow, she was completely __healed_! _I just know we're on the right track. I only hope that we'll be welcome—"_

The sudden yowling pain of a dog tore her attention away from the diary. Setting it on the coffee table, she shoved off the couch and headed outside.

Her hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened when she took in the ugly scene before her. Karma, who'd she'd let outside to run for a while, lay on the grass just off of the country road. There was a small pool of blood amassing near the dog.

She hurried to Karma's side, holding back tears as she heard the dog whimper in pain. Karma was on her side, moving only her head and upper body. Kayla immediately found the source of pain: her back right leg was twisted and bloody; some of the fur had been torn off, revealing gore and bone. What could have done such a thing?

Not allowing herself time to dwell on anything, Kayla quickly hurried to retrieve her car keys. She ran back outside to start it, only to realize that she could, in no way, lift Karma by herself. The German shepherd weighed far more than what she could carry. Hastily yanking out her phone, she prayed he wasn't still practicing for the game.

"Kayla?"

"Stiles!" she shouted desperately. "Stiles, I need your help. My dog—something happened to her—she might have been hit—and I can't carry her—I—"

"Whoa, slow down," Stiles said. "Your dog's been hit?"

Letting out a shaky breath, she answered, "I don't know, for sure. But I need help because I can't carry her on my own. I have to get her to a vet. Now."

"I know just the person. Give me your address, and I'll be there as quick as I can."

Kayla rattled off her address and now kneeled by Karma's side once more, looking around frantically for any sign of Stiles' jeep. When she took a moment to check herself, she realized she was completely overreacting. Yes, Karma had been injured, but it wasn't a fatal wound, and Stiles was on his way to help. He knew where to go. Everything would be fine.

She murmured that to poor Karma, patting her head comfortingly. As soon as Stiles' arrived, he helped place the dog as gingerly as possible in the back of the jeep. Then he ushered Kayla in the passenger seat, and took off.

"It looks like a broken leg," Stiles said reassuringly. "Nothing too bad. It could have been worse."

Kayla nodded, still a little shaken up. "You're right. It's just—my parents gave me her, as a present before I saw them last. She's connected to them."

"So she's very important to you," he surmised gently.

She was surprised by how kind Stiles could be. Of course, he'd been kind the first time she met him, but he was usually entirely sarcastic. Like earlier today, she felt as if she were seeing a rarely open side of him.

He pulled into an animal shelter a few minutes later. Leaving Kayla with Karma, he ran inside.

When he reappeared, there was dark skinned man wearing casual clothes and a kind expression, and surprisingly Scott, flanking Stiles' sides. The four managed to wheel the dog in and rest her on an examining table within minutes.

Kayla waited anxiously, biting her fingernails as she watched the veterinarian, introduced as Dr. Deaton, examine Karma. After several silent minutes, Stiles spoke.

"You know your finger's bleeding, right?"

Stopping, Kayla looked down at her hand. He was right. Blood trickled from the nail on her index finger, a stark crimson color against her light skin. Scott grabbed a paper towel from a dispenser and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, holding it tightly to her finger. That's when she actually took the time to look at the two boys. Stiles looked calm, if not a little bored and spaced out. Scott seemed on edge, biting his lip, pacing. "Scott, is there time to talk about that thing now?"

He looked even more alarmed. Dr. Deaton glanced up at them momentarily, and Scott hurried to answer. "No—no, we can stick with tomorrow. That's better."

"You're still going to the game, right?" Stiles asked suddenly, tuning back into the present.

"I'm not really sure I want to leave Karma alone…"

Dr. Deaton waved a hand in the air. "She won't be alone. I think I'll have her stay here for a few days, if that's okay with you. Free of charge. I just want to make sure her leg heals up nicely."

Kayla smiled at him. "Thank you so much for doing this, by the way. You have no idea how grateful I am. I know you were about to close for the day."

"It's absolutely no problem," he said kindly. "In fact, I'm finished. We'll get her situated in the kennel for the night, where she'll be perfectly fine."

After watching as he and Scott expertly maneuvered Karma into a decent sized cage, Kayla felt more at ease. Back out in the lobby, Dr. Deaton stopped as he was finishing up her paperwork.

"Now that I think about it, you look very familiar. Have we met before?"

Absorbing the vet's words, she raised her eyebrows. "No, I don't think so."

"Hm," he studied her face oddly, before signing off at the bottom of the paper. "It'll come to me. I'll have Scott let you know when Karma's ready to be picked up. In the meantime, feel free to call if you're worried."

Kayla thanked him again and headed out the door with Stiles. She couldn't shake the odd feeling that'd encroached upon her when the vet had said she looked familiar. Had she seen him before?

Before Stiles' got back in the car, she hugged him.

"Whoa," he said facetiously. "I could get used to this. Maybe I should get a dog…"

She laughed. "Do you even know how to take care of a dog?"

Smirking as they got into the car, he muttered, "Better than you'd think."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm hoping I'm not confusing anyone about Kayla's parents, and their backgrounds and such. Always feel free to hit me up with some questions. Review! (-: **


	3. Chapter 3 Small Favors

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**A/N: Always **_**love**_** the reviews.**

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><p><strong>Three<strong>

_Small Favors_

Stiles had dropped Kayla off at home. The car ride had mostly consisted of obnoxiously flirty comments, making her blush to no end. She wasn't used to someone being so unabashedly _direct_. Although she was curious why he was laying things on so thick, she wrote it off as him being flirty with any girl he came in contact with. Or maybe he was practicing for how to interact in front of Lydia. Who knew?

He'd also said he looked forward to seeing her later that night, and that he had a 'teeny-tiny-you-totally-won't-regret-it' favor to ask of her. However, he wanted to keep it a mystery. She knew she probably would regret it, simply by the mischievous look in his eyes. But she really did owe him. A lot.

Feeling a mixture of different emotions, Kayla walked slowly into the house, for some reason wary of her surroundings. Her anxiety over Karma's accident had alleviated, but a small bout of worry still welled up in her stomach. What exactly happened, anyway? She hadn't _heard_ a car outside, but that didn't rule out the possibility. She'd have to ask the vet what it looked like happened when she saw him next.

After remembering that she hadn't returned her mother's diary to its proper place, she headed to the coffee table, only to stop immediately. Her eyes searched the area. No diary. Closing her eyes and visualizing earlier, she could see that she'd set it right on the edge of the coffee table before she'd headed out for Karma. Getting down on her hands and knees, she checked under the table and couch, pulled up cushions, opened up drawers. Still nothing.

Alarm set in, and she could almost see the red flashing lights in her mind match the pace of her manic heartbeat. She hadn't locked the front door. Once she'd called Stiles and waited for him, she never remembered to lock the front door. Which meant that anyone who knew she lived here could have so easily gotten in. But who could possibly know? No one but Stiles, as of a few hours ago, knew she lived here. Was it possible someone was following her? What reason would they have?

Reasons didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. She shook her head, suddenly pacing. That was when her heart nearly stopped.

There, lying in the center of the kitchen counter, was the diary. Approaching it slowly, she wondered if maybe it was a trap. Could someone have read it, figured out why she was here, and be setting her up, right now? Was she just being paranoid? It definitely wasn't where _she'd_ put it, so perhaps paranoia was necessary.

Glancing around furtively, she decidedly snatched it up and quickly headed to her room. After peeking under her bed and drawing out the cherry wood box, she unlocked it and set the diary back in.

There was no doubt in her mind that someone had been inside. She'd have to be extra careful with everything, even more so since Karma wouldn't be here for days. And maybe it really would be a good idea to talk to Stiles' dad about setting up a patrol in the area, when she met up with the boys tomorrow. The woods were dense. She had no way of knowing exactly what was out there, or really, who.

Leaning against the bed, she realized that her hands were shaking. She tried taking deep breaths to soothe her frazzled nerves. It terrified her to think someone had been in here, could get _back_ in here. But it was especially disconcerting that they'd read the diary, or at least it appeared that way.

The curtains to her bedroom window were pulled back. The sky was streaked with twilight, meaning the game would start soon. Getting out of the house sounded wonderful. But she made sure to lock everything up tight. Maybe a security system wouldn't be such a bad idea.

The parking lot was packed, and a confluence of people streamed towards the lacrosse field. Following them, Kayla felt more at ease. To be surrounded by people she didn't know was certainly much better than to remain in her isolated home for the night. A glance to her right showed the forest, thick and dark with its branches twisting and reaching out like daunting tendrils threatening to capture her.

Bypassing concessions, she looked ahead towards the bleachers and studiously ignored her newfound phobia. Scanning the faces already seated, she found Allison and Lydia huddled next to each other, using a blanket to fend off the chill of the night. Relived to have found some familiar faces, she headed in their direction. Allison caught her eye and waved, grinning.

"Hey guys," Kayla said, after shuffling down the row to meet them. "Room for one more?"

"Totally." Allison scooted over, allowing her a seat. She offered a portion of the candy-colored blanket. "I'm glad you're here. You should like the game—but they _can_ get rough."

Grinning mischievously, Kayla said, "Who doesn't like to see guys get rough?"

Allison giggled, but something looked off about it.

"Is Stiles here?"

Lydia shot Kayla a venomous look. "He's on the team. Of course he's here."

Allison rolled her eyes. "What Lydia means is that he's over there." She nodded but immediately averted her eyes elsewhere. Kayla followed the direction to see both Scott and Stiles sitting on the bench, seemingly arguing about something. Stiles was making broad, dramatic gestures, turned facing Scott. The only way she could really discern that it was Scott was by his rich dark hair. Not long after, the jock she'd seen in the hallway earlier appeared in front of the two, looking smug. Something seemed contentious about the way they regarded one another.

Someone clearing their throat above Kayla brought her attention back. Allison looked sheepish. "Kayla," she said. "This is my dad. Dad, this is Kayla."

A man with washed out brown hair sat above them. His eyes were blue and piercing, and the angles to his face were similar to Allison's, but sharper, less delicate. When he smiled, crow's feet appeared at the edges of his eyes. "It's very nice to meet you. Allison tells me you're new?"

"Yes," Kayla answered politely with a small smile. "She had to hand over the 'new-girl' title the other day when I basically ran her over in the hall."

Allison laughed. "I told you, you're hardly any different than I am in that department. I have my clumsy moments, too."

"Yeah, but I bet they aren't epically clumsy," Kayla said with chagrin. "A friend of mine back home was teaching me how to throw a football, once, and wanted me to use a tree as target practice. The darn thing came back and hit me in the forehead. I managed to earn _myself_ a trip to the hospital."

Allison fought a smile. "Doesn't sound _so_ bad."

"You weren't there. Trust me, it was bad."

Suddenly, Allison sat up straighter, something catching her interest. "Have you ever tried archery or anything like that?"

Kayla gave her a wary look. "Why?"

"It's just something I used to do," Allison was looking at her shoes, but smiling. "I've taken it back up again, recently."

"That sounds cool," Kayla mused. "My guardian once taught me how to throw knives. I wasn't so bad. Well, until… never mind."

"Until what? Come on, it couldn't be worse than the football. That was hardly bad at all, anyway."

Smirking, Kayla said, "Oh, it's worse. Much worse. You remember how I told you I just have bad luck? Yeah. Bad luck and throwing knives… don't mix."

"You say your guardian?" Allison's father inquired.

"_Dad_…"

"It's okay," Kayla reassured Allison. "Yes, my guardian. My parents passed away when I was little."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said genuinely.

Always the apologies. No one actually knew them, though. Of course, the sentiment wasn't lost on her. Just the purpose, maybe. She gave him a friendly nod.

"Well, maybe you'll have better luck with a bow and arrow," Allison suggested after a pause. "I could teach you sometime."

"That sounds fun. I just wouldn't want my bad luck to transfer to you… and you should probably keep a phone on you, too, just in case."

Allison rolled her eyes. "I don't believe it could really be that bad. Anyway, you should totally come over some time. My aunt couldn't make it tonight, but she's totally cool. You'll like her."

After agreeing to make plans soon, they turned back to what was happening on the field. The team, dressed in a burgundy uniform, was huddled together. Coach Finstock was no doubt giving them a pep talk, in the center of the huddle. Then the game started, and Kayla was surprised to find that the smug jock and Scott were co-captains, from whatever Lydia muttered a complaint about.

"Do you know him?" Kayla asked suddenly, leaning forward to see Lydia.

Lydia's eyes were as hostile as a snake's, her glossed lips pressed together. "Know _who_?"

"The captain—the one besides Scott." It was only after the words came out that Kayla saw Allison's warning look. She bit the inside of her lip, realizing this could be a touchy subject.

Lydia laughed mirthlessly. "Know him? Do _I_ know him? No. I have no idea who he is. Who'd be interested in a _co-_captain?"

"Uhm…" Kayla looked at Allison for help, who shrugged sympathetically, and then back at Lydia. "No one?"

"Exactly," Lydia said crisply. "No one. Right, Allison?"

Allison hid her hurt look from Lydia. She mumbled a 'right.'

Kayla sat back, absorbing what'd just occurred. There were obviously some hard feelings between the nameless co-captain and Lydia. And then something about Allison and Scott, who she'd thought seemed… like they clicked together. Maybe they were in a fight or something.

"Allison," Kayla whispered. "Can I ask you something?"

The other girl gave her a sad smile, as if she'd anticipated this. "Only if I get to ask you something, too."

"Of course. Are you and Scott… well, are you two dating?"

Allison sighed deeply, her brown eyes slanted down. "Not anymore. I broke up with him."

"Oh. I'm really sorry… I should have figured—I shouldn't have asked."

"It's okay," Allison smiled genuinely. "I want us to be friends. Friends talk about these things. Which brings me to _my_ question…"

"Uh oh…"

Allison smirked. "Are you interested in Stiles?"

Kayla sputtered, something in between a laugh and a gasp. "_No!_" she hissed finally. "Not like _that_, anyway. I mean, he's a really nice guy, but not my type. We're just friends."

"Right." The undercurrent in Allison's tone was suspicious. "Of course you are."

"Really!" Kayla insisted, but couldn't help but smile. "If you're referring to the abundant amount of flirty comments he constantly _shouts_ to me at school, then I don't blame you for mistaking that as me _liking _him. It's more so along the lines of _helping_ him."

"Helping him with...?"

"Lydia," Kayla said in the lowest whisper possible so the girl beside them would remain oblivious. Though, she seemed to hardly care that they were whispering between each other, anyway. "He wants Lydia's attention. For some reason, he thinks _I'm_ the way to get that."

Allison stifled a giggle. "So how'd he pull you into it?"

"Well, first, it started when my car broke down. He fixed it up for me. Then something happened to my dog today, and he came right away to help. He's really cool."

"You're dog?" the other girl said, concerned. "What happened to your dog?"

Kayla shrugged sadly. "I'm not entirely sure. I'd let her outside for a while when I was reading, and the next thing I knew she was yowling in pain. Something took a big chunk out of her back leg, down to the bone. Stiles helped me get her to a vet. She's going to be fine." She avoided mentioning anything about Scott, uncertain how it'd be taken.

"Still, down to the bone? That's terrible. The vet didn't tell you what happened?"

"No. I mean, I'd think that maybe a car hit her and no one bothered to stop or maybe didn't notice, but I didn't _hear_ a car. Although, that doesn't mean it wasn't one. I hadn't exactly been outside to listen."

Allison looked thoughtful. "You should tell the sheriff, just in case. If someone's making a habit of going out of their way to hit poor creatures by the road, he'd like to know I'm sure."

"You're probably right. I can ask him tomorrow, then."

Allison quirked a curious eyebrow. "What's tomorrow?"

"Oh…" Kayla's cheeks burned bright. "Nothing. Stiles is my partner for the English project. We're going to work on it."

"At _his_ house?"

"Allison, it's completely innocent, I _swear_. I'm not into him!"

She gave a sly smile. "That doesn't mean he isn't into you."

"I think he's really only aware of Lydia. He only stares at her _constantly_."

"Jealous, are we?"

Kayla gave her a mock-dark look. "Funny."

A sudden shout from the field caught the girls' attention. Coach Finstock was yelling at Stiles for some mistake. Stiles, looking frustrated, hardly listened as Scott tried to reassure him.

Allison whispered in Kayla's ear, making the latter blush a deep scarlet. "You want me to _what?_" she hissed.

Looking innocent, Allison grinned. "What's the big deal? It'll probably help get Lydia's attention ten times more than anything else would."

Kayla bit her lip. She looked back at Stiles—goofy, kindhearted Stiles, who'd helped her so much already—and it was decided. Shoving to her feet, she ignored Allison's wicked grin as she shuffled her way down the row and to the ground.

With unease squirming in her stomach, she headed toward the side of the field where Stiles stood. She could feel the stares of strangers in the crowd on her. How many people broke from the stands and went to a player during the game?

Upon noticing her, Stiles' scowl diminished, replaced with something less severe and a twinge of surprise. But still, she could tell his usual spirits were down.

So, walking to him without stopping, she gathered all the gall she could. Then she laced her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply.

Stiles was absolutely frozen with shock, his arms hovering over Kayla's hips. He'd dropped his lacrosse stick and gloves the moment she'd touched him. Just as she was about to pull away, Stiles pulled her against him, returning the kiss.

"Stilinski!" Coach Finstock yelled. "Get your girlfriend off the field! This is lacrosse, not tonsil hockey!"

As they pulled away from each other, Kayla knew her face was burning a bright, bright red. Stiles was almost slack-jawed until he grinned at her.

"Wow," he commented. "And my favor was just going to be a kiss on the _cheek_. But that's okay. I could totally get used to that, instead. In fact, I insist we practice tomorrow."

Before he could say anything else, Scott was dragging him back on the field, casting Kayla a curious look.

She stared after them. After a moment, she burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hands as she made her way back to Allison. The people she passed on the way there gave her looks running the gamut of impressed to horrified.

Settling back in beside Allison, she tried her hardest to look serious. But laughter overcame the two girls, and it wasn't until they'd sobered up that they realized Stiles was playing significantly better.

And _that_ was when Kayla noticed a man wearing a certain Sheriff's uniform was looking between her and Stiles curiously. She wondered if there was only so many times a person could blush in the span of five minutes.

Beside Allison, Lydia was turned towards Kayla. Allison nudged the oblivious girl, and when Kayla caught sight of Lydia's hard stare, she choked on another bout of laughter. Allison had been right. A kiss did catch Lydia's attention more than any silly comments would.

The game ended, the victors being Beacon Hills. Stiles smiled proudly around at everyone, having made several of the shots himself. Kayla had steered clear of him once his father had stepped up to make congratulations. She'd see him the next day, anyway. And hopefully by then, his father would have forgotten her face.

Only when she returned home and undid all the locks applied to the front door did her cheery mood dissipate. An ominous feeling crept up her spine, almost like fingers were tracing the spinal discs in her back. She quickly relocked everything and drew all the curtains closed. Still, a terrible feeling wavered in the air.

After ensuring that her cell phone was charged enough, she set it on her bedside table, just in case. Who knew what lay in wait to surprise her next?

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><p>Stiles' house was huge in comparison to any place she'd lived at. Before pulling in the drive, she'd taken a moment to stare up at the two-story edifice of a home that reached high into the clear blue sky. Akin to her small home, there wasn't really anyone else in sight. It seemed Beacon Hills had many lonely roads.<p>

After hopping out of the car, she popped the trunk to gather all the materials they'd need to begin the English project. She knew that she was also here for some talk Scott wanted to have, but Stiles had mentioned beginning the project, too. With several books, one including a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets, hefted in her arms, she made her way to the front door. On her way, she couldn't help but notice the place was vacated of any sheriff's car.

She didn't need to knock. Stiles was already there, letting her in the house. He didn't seem to care that the books were almost too much for her to hold until she made it obvious. A flashback to the previous night, his lips on hers, made her eyes cast to the hardwood floors. _God, why did I do that?_ Then Lydia's face appeared in her head. Yes. That's why.

Taking the books himself, he led her up to his room. Scott was there, holding up a wall as he leaned against it. He detached himself when he saw her, offering a kind greeting.

"Of course," he added, "if you guys need a moment alone—I mean, after last night and all—I _totally_ understand."

Kayla resisted the urge to kick him, glaring instead. Stiles grinned impishly from his place in a desk chair.

"What?" Scott said innocently at her glare. "That was a pretty passionate kiss, if you ask me. I think the crowd nearly fainted. Actually, I think you made Coach Finstock blush."

"She made _me_ blush," Stiles piped up. "I mean, the way she came at me and everything, with everyone watching. Very possessive. I like that about you."

"Guys," she said threateningly. "Shut up."

Stiles held his hands up in surrender, and then delved one of them into a bag of chips, shoving a bunch in his mouth. The crunching broke up the sudden silence.

"So what is it we need to talk about?" her question wasn't directed at either boy specifically. "Why here, and not at the school?"

Scott and Stiles exchanged significant looks. Kayla could tell it was the kind of look you could give someone you knew very well; like their minds were tuned in to the same wave length. It roused an uneasy squirm in her stomach. They weren't _innocent _significant looks.

"What are you hiding?" she asked suddenly, upon the realization that it made sense. Scott being broody, Stiles and him arguing. Something was up between them.

Scott sighed and closed his eyes. "We need to ask you a small favor."

Mystified, she nodded. "What is it?"

He gave Stiles a pointed look, to which Stiles looked like a deer caught in headlights. He stuttered, before Scott took over still.

"A friend of ours—well, I guess we really wouldn't say _friend_—"

"Much more like barely-tolerated acquaintance," Stiles piped up, having formed an actual sentence.

Scott gave him a dirty look. "Our _acquaintance_… well, you ran in to him the other day. But you can't tell anyone because—"

"Wait," she said, eyes widening in surprise. "You mean the guy in the woods, by that house? I thought he was—"

"He's really _not_ a fugitive!" Stiles said, panicky. "You have to understand that—no matter what the police _say_, he really _isn't _a fugitive."

"_A fugitive?_" Her eyes were bugging out. "What the hell are you talking about? He's a _fugitive?"_

Scott groaned at the same time Stiles said, "No! Weren't you listening? I said he _isn't _a fugitive!"

"_Stiles_," Scott hissed, pacing. "She didn't _know_." He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

Kayla observed the two warily. Her thoughts were teeming, returning to the woods in the middle of the night when she first met that mysterious man. He'd been far from friendly, and had basically threatened her. Well, maybe not threatened her, per say, but he sure wasn't a sweetheart. Her mouth suddenly gaped open.

"Oh my _God_," she whispered. "He's the one who broke into my house!"

Both boys stopped their bantering and looked at her. "What?" they said in unison.

"My house was broken into," she explained. "After we took Karma to the vet. Someone had been inside."

"You're sure?" Scott questioned.

"Yes I'm sure," she snapped, unnecessarily. She didn't like it when people questioned her veracity. "Things were… displaced."

Stiles looked at Scott. "What reason would he have to break into her house?"

"Well he did think she was a—a, uh—you know," Scott mused. "Maybe that's why."

"A what?" she asked, confused. "What'd he think I was?"

Scott shook his head. "Never mind. What was moved? Was the door left open?"

Kayla looked at her hands. "Just a diary—book, really. That's all. And no, the door wasn't left open."

Stiles looked skeptical. "And you're sure that you didn't forget where you left this 'book'? I really don't see him peeking in diaries. He's not the type."

She gave him a hard glare. "Like I said, it's more of a book than anything else. Not exactly a diary."

"Well, can we see it?" Scott queried. His arms were crossed and his mouth was set in a hard line.

"Not exactly."

"Why not?" Stiles looked dubious. "If it's not _exactly_ a diary, then what's the harm?"

"Never mind, okay? I shouldn't have brought it up. But this guy—what do you mean he _isn't _a fugitive? Don't think I'm letting _that_ go."

They exchanged looks again. "It's a long story," Scott said with resignation. "The point is that you can't tell anyone you saw him. That's why we wanted to talk to you."

She shook her head firmly. "That's not fair. You can't tell me some guy _isn't _a fugitive, and then brush it off. I don't buy it. And this _non-_fugitive just happened to mention he saw me? Why?"

Stiles was gnawing on his fingernails. "The less you know, the better. He mentioned it because you can't tell anyone that you saw him. You seriously can't."

Pondering this a moment, she pursed her lips. "That's why you freaked out in the lunchroom yesterday. Because I was about to tell you that something weird had happened, and I wanted to ask your dad if he'd send patrols out just in case." She narrowed her eyes at Stiles. "Why do people think he's a fugitive, then, if you say he's not? He looked pretty sketchy to me."

"Because of me," Scott admitted. His eyes were on the floor. "Something happened at the school a couple weeks back. And before that, things kept happening in town. That was when I was dating Allison…" he shook his head sadly. "She'd been afraid, okay? I just wanted her to feel safe. So… so I blamed it on our—uh—acquaintance. I told Stiles' dad that it was him, but mostly because we'd thought he'd gotten attacked, too. So it's my fault. That's why."

Kayla looked at him with pity. "You really like her, don't you?" He nodded, saying nothing. Rubbing at her eyes, she sighed. "And to think with all the people I could have become friends with, it's two guys who have a fugitive-but-not-_really_-a-fugitive as an _acquaintance_," she joked weakly. "Still, if he broke into my house—"

"We'll ask him," Stiles reasoned, looking at Scott for agreement. "We'll ask him about it. Would that help? Because you really can't say anything to my dad."

Biting her lip, she said, "I really don't _want_ to say anything to your dad. If I'd have known he was at the game last night—"

Stiles barked with laughter. His eyes were alight with mirth. "Oh, by the way, he wants to know when you're coming over for dinner. He'd like to meet you _o-ffically._"

She sneered at him. "You're so funny."

"Oh, I'm quite serious." He grinned.

Groaning, she sat down on his bed, resigned. "Of course you are. Well, I have good news for you, I think." Stiles raised his eyebrows. "I think Lydia was bothered, last night. At least, she wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the game, not to mention even _look_ at me. Except to glare at me, which is exactly what I'm expecting at school on Monday."

Stiles looked impressed, but then frowned. "So I guess that means that you can't _ask_ her what she thinks, of say, going on a date." He looked deep in thought. "I'll figure something out."

Scott rolled his eyes. "His ideas usually result in at least one person being in extreme pain."

"Uh…" Kayla cringed. "Maybe Allison can ask. Sorry," she said quietly to Scott, who was glaring intensely at the floor.

"Has she said anything?" he asked finally, and it was obvious it'd been on his mind. "Anything at all?"

"About you, you mean," Kayla stated. She pulled her knees up to her chest, lacing her fingers at her ankles. "She just said she broke up with you… That's it, so far. But I've only been here a couple days. I doubt she'd tell me everything."

"Well, what about Jackson? Does she talk about him?"

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Who's Jackson?"

"My _co -_captain," Scott mumbled. "The blonde. Smug, conceited, know-it-all, jock that—"

"Okay, okay," Stiles said lightly. "I think she gets it."

Kayla put the pieces together easily. "You mean the guy Lydia _doesn't _know. What's up with that, anyway? And wasn't he the one watching us in the hallway?"

Stiles head whipped to her. "Lydia said that?" His voice raised several octaves.

Kayla nodded. "She made it pretty clear."

"Sweet," Stiles breathed, now lost in his thoughts. He refocused on Kayla again. "He broke up with her. And he makes it a habit to loom around people, lingering creepily. I suggest not falling for any words that come out of his mouth."

"And you told me _I'd_ said enough," Scott muttered, but still looked pleased.

"Okay," Kayla said. "So Jackson equals bad guy. Allison hasn't mentioned him once. Which is good, right?"

"Right," Scott seemed relieved, his shoulders relaxing.

A silence fell upon them. Kayla's thoughts were teeming; mostly about this non-fugitive person who may or may not be into breaking and entering. It was odd, how touchy Scott and Stiles seemed to be about the mere subject. Who was he to them? Obviously more than an _acquaintance_ if they'd kept up contact. Especially because they're looking out for him. But who, exactly, was this guy? She'd have to get a hold of a newspaper sometime soon. Surely there'd be more than enough articles on the town's fugitive.

"So," she broke the silence, eyes falling to her books. "Ready to read some Shakespeare?"

Scott had left, saying he had things to do. Stiles and Kayla had worked on and off the English project, taking time to eat the pizza Stiles had ordered and try to come up with a game-plan for Lydia. Stiles let her escape before his father came home and they'd have to make 'official' introductions.

Kayla stopped by the grocery store on her way back, picking up much desired foods and a newspaper to dig through. Once she'd returned home, bolted everything back up, and put the groceries away, she sat at the kitchen island's stool. The newspaper was unfolded in front of her. There was an article on the back of the front page, probably because it'd been weeks, on the town's very own fugitive. She couldn't help but gape at the last name in the headline, the very name Scott and Stiles had so blatantly refrained from saying. 'DEREK HALE'. Hale. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So is there really no love for this story? I know I have some people who've requested story-alerts, but not very many. Just not interesting enough? Hm… don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts! **


	4. Chapter 4 Past Pressure

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**A/N: As always, thank you so much for the encouraging reviews!**

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><p><strong>Four<strong>

_Past Pressure_

Kayla had retrieved her mother's diary exactly three seconds after seeing the name 'Hale.' It was so familiar, like a word she'd used all the time but had suddenly slipped her mind and no matter how she tried reaching out to it, it wouldn't come. Hale. What did Hale mean? Why did she remember it so well, but couldn't exactly put her finger on it?

Who exactly was this man?

She was back at the kitchen island, unbinding the book with fervor, when it hit her. The last entry she'd been reading when Karma had been hit—that mentioned _something_ about a Hale, didn't it? She just hadn't gotten to it yet. Flipping to the right page, she scanned its contents carefully.

"_August 27__th__, 2004_

_The last few days have been simply wonderful! Oh, the cabin is so lovely, and the small lake it sits on is absolutely picturesque. I wish the kids could be here. _

_Mark went back to talk to the doctor at the hospital for information. Apparently, the pack we've been looking for—a family, actually, like I suspected—lives in the middle of the Preserve. The doctor said there's actually a house built back in there, hidden by nature. He'd only come across the people because one of them had been brought in to the emergency room once. A girl had been shot with an arrow, he said, and as soon as he'd removed the arrow, she was completely __healed_! _I just know we're on the right track. Dr. Fenris seems to be a reliable source, and maybe an ally. He, too, has had a great deal of interest in them. I only hope that we'll be welcome. But for discretion purposes, he only gave us their last name. Hale. _

_Finally, a name and a place to go off of! This is really it. We've __finally__ found them. After all this time searching, we have a real lead. I need to call Slade. He'll want to know."_

Hale. A family that'd lived in the middle of the reservation. Derek Hale. That was the man she'd met the other night, by a house. But it'd been in ruins. Where was the rest of his family? What'd happened to their house?

Were they tied in to what had happened to her parents?

Kayla flipped to the very back of the book with a deep frown. So many pages had been torn out. Maybe they held the answers she looked for. But Slade had said he knew nothing of the missing pages, that her mother must have gotten rid of them. What could have been on them that was worse than all this other speculation in the surviving pages? What could have been so condemning, so revealing? Or maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe her mother had wanted to cover her own tracks. She had been very careful with the way she worded things in each entry.

It was all too much. The pressure of the past was beginning to get at her, just the way Slade had warned her it wood. And it was only a few days into the search.

Perhaps it was time to pay this Dr. Fenris a visit.

It didn't take long to go through the normal routine, hiding away the book, locking up the house. Only, it felt a lot lonelier without Karma with her. And a lot less safe.

On her way out, she decided that, very soon, she needed to do something about her hiding place. A safe, or maybe a false bottom in the cherry box or in a drawer around the house. Something of that sort. Possibly Stiles would let her borrow some tools. He owed her for that kiss.

As hospitals go, Beacon Hills Hospital didn't look _entirely_ unwelcoming. It could have just been the dreadful sense of inexorable death that derived from the building. Or her humiliating clumsiness that had sent her on a trip in an ambulance too many times to count. Yes, that was probably it.

The waiting room was drab, decorated with those standard mosaic things that seemed customary to any place with a stethoscope. Chairs alternating in pea greens, ocean blues, popsicle orange. It was like stepping into dozens of other places she'd been at to see a doctor. Only this time was going to be different. Much different.

A nurse sitting at a computer at her station caught Kayla's attention. She somehow looked so familiar.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked kindly when Kayla approached.

"I hope so. I was wondering if Doctor Fenris was in today? I really need to see him, and it'd be a major help if he could find a quick moment to talk to me."

The woman smiled. "You know, I've been trying to place where I know you from. You're Stiles' girlfriend, aren't you?"

Kayla stuttered, her face first paling, then brightening to a light pink as boiling blood surged to the surface of her cheeks.

"I saw you at the game last night," the nurse explained. "Actually, Scott said he was meeting up with you and Stiles today. How'd that go?"

"Scott?" Kayla blinked.

The woman nodded, gesturing at her name tag. "Scott McCall. My son."

"_Oh_," Kayla said as realization dawned on her. Same dark hair, same dark eyes, similar facial structure. Yes, this was Scott's mom. Awkward? "Yeah—Scott. It was really nice of him helping us with our English project. I think he gets Stiles to concentrate better."

Ms. McCall's smile broadened. "That's probably because Stiles is lucky, having a pretty girl like you." She looked sheepish suddenly. "Scott's told me a lot, which is surprising. He doesn't usually talk about things anymore."

Kayla had to suppress the urge to call Scott and cuss him out. First, it wasn't like her to scream profanities at _anyone_. Second, it probably wouldn't go over well with, well, any of her other new friends. Plus, she _was_ still too new to have any right to do that. But why would Scott tell his _mom_ that she and Stiles were _dating_? That seemed like a major step in the _wrong_ direction.

"Oh, I see," Kayla said, her voice wavering. She cleared her throat. "It's really nice to meet you, Ms. McCall."

Scott's mom began typing on her computer as she spoke. "So you said you were looking for Doctor Fenris?" She paused, growing concerned. "You're not injured, are you? Or—oh goodness—"now she seemed uncomfortable. "Scott filled me in on how you're here on your own—which you're welcome to come by anytime if you need anything—but if no one's really given you the talk about safe sex—"

"Ms. McCall!" Kayla stopped her quickly, eyes wide, glancing around. "It's _so_ not like that! Stiles and I—we're—never mind." She breathed out shakily. "I just need to see Doctor Fenris because he knew my parents."

Relief crossed Ms. McCall's features. "Oh, okay. I think he's on break right now. I'll let him know you're here."

"Thank you," Kayla breathed, leaning against the counter while Ms. McCall disappeared around a corner. Now she wanted to strangle Scott. And Stiles. For making her look like a complete idiot.

Ms. McCall returned a moment later. There was a man in a doctor's lab coat behind her, looking grim. His skin was a little wizened and he had steel grey hair that was receding. He looked to be maybe in his upper fifties. She could never guess age very well. A nametag on the bright white lab coat read DR. FENRIS. A chill went down her spine as she met his dark eyes.

"You're Miss Dering?" he asked without preamble, his voice gruff. Kayla nodded wordlessly. He sighed. "All right. Follow me."

Ms. McCall gave Kayla a bright, parting smile of encouragement. Kayla tried keeping up with the doctor's brisk pace, but lagged behind a little. The linoleum and fluorescent lighting was giving her a headache. The smell of bleach brought back flashbacks of all the times she'd been in the ER, making her shudder. She hated hospitals.

Doctor Fenris used a key to open up an unused room for patients, shoving the door open. He let it swing shut behind him, and Kayla narrowing missed getting hit in the face. He turned on more fluorescent lights, revealing several chairs, a computer and desk, and an examining table. Gesturing for her to take a seat in a chair, he crossed his arms and paced.

Silence.

"Uhm," Kayla began awkwardly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "So you're Doctor Fenris?" He made an incoherent noise that she figured was supposed to be a 'yes'. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he swung around to face her.

"You shouldn't be here, girl. Your parents, Abigail and Mark—right?" he paused only to receive a short nod from her. "They got into a lot of trouble. You shouldn't be in this town."

"I'm aware of what happened to my parents," she said in a small voice, not meeting his eyes. "That's why I'm here. I want to find out what _really_ happened."

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath. "I could tell just by looking at you that you were Abigail's daughter. You hold yourself the same. With temerity and brashness, and self-doubt. She never did think before she did things, but always second guessed herself."

Kayla blinked up at him. It was the first time anyone said she resembled one of her parents in any way. Slade had always told her she was lucky she wasn't _anything_ like them. But still, Dr. Fenris sounded anything but complimenting. "So you knew my parents well?"She finally asked.

"Better than most people in this town did," he replied curtly. "Can't say that's a good thing. Nothing good will come of you being here, snooping around. My advice is to leave as quickly as possible, before anyone realizes who you are."

With every new thing the doctor said, Kayla grew more confused. "What do you mean, before anyone realizes who I am?"

"I think you know what I mean. Your parents didn't come here under the name Dering. They lived under a different pretense. So before you get yourself into anything else, you should just go back to where you came from. It'll do us both some good."

"Dr. Fenris," she said, hanging on to her composure by a thread. "I don't know what my parents did to upset _you_, but for _me_, they're _dead._ And you and I both know it wasn't really an animal attack, now was it? So I'm not leaving until I figure out what happened to them."

"And get yourself killed in the process? I'm sure they'd be proud of you, kid. Following in their footsteps."

"Dr Fenris!" She exclaimed angrily, crossing her arms. "That's not fair! You _helped _them! I know you did!"

He shook his head. "And how would you know that? How'd you know to come here in the first place?"

Biting her lip, she suddenly realized she was on precarious grounds and wasn't treading them very carefully so far. For all she knew, _this_ man did something to her parents. "A lot of information was left behind for me to follow," she said vaguely. "I've followed it here, so far. So can you help me or not?"

He grunted unhappily, a scowl on his face. Several moments passed before he gritted begrudgingly, "How much do you know?"

Satisfied with his acquiescence, she relaxed. "I know that my parents came to you looking for information on the wildlife, here. Except that they came across something else instead, something they were _really_ looking in to. I know that it had to do with a family with the last name 'Hale', and something about a girl with an arrow healing immediately. For some reason, my parents expected it. I know that they trusted you and considered you an ally, but I don't get why they'd need _allies_ as if there was some kind of war or feud or something. I know that I need your help."

The doctor laughed mirthlessly. "So what you mean to say is, you don't really know much at all."

Frowning, she crossed her arms. "My parents were killed by an animal, Dr. Fenris. But they came across something here—something… unnatural, maybe. And I think you know who or what that is."

The doctor shook his head, falling wearily into a seat across the room. He rubbed at his eyes, and she noticed two dark half circles underneath them for the first time. "Kid, you don't know what you're getting yourself into. I was just as eager to get to the bottom of things when your parents were here. Now look at me. I'm only ever sober enough to be here for one shift, and then I go home and drink until I can forget things again. Your parents were lucky. They're dead. They don't have to live with the nightmares, the knowledge anymore. They escaped it."

The small bout of pity she'd felt for him ended there. _"Escaped it?_" she cried, eyes ablaze. "You think that them _dying_ was an _escape_? How can you say that?"

He shook his head again, in consternation. "If you continue looking, you'll know exactly what I mean. You may even end up like me."

Kayla bolted to her feet, affronted. "Don't you dare say such a thing! I'll never end up a pathetic_ drunk_. I'm stronger than that."

Surprisingly, the doctor smiled. "Well, you'd better be. If you really want to do this."

"I do," she said through clenched teeth, vexed by his shift in mood. "I'm not giving up on this."

"Just like your mom," he said with grim admiration. "Never could talk her out of anything. Neither could your father. She was adamant."

"Now she's gone," Kayla said. "And I want to know what happened."

Nodding, he crossed his arms. "So where are you going to begin?"

"Hale," she said bitterly. "I'll start with that."

* * *

><p>Staring up at the decrepit house above her, Kayla pulled her jacket closer to her to fend off the cold that'd crept into the day, hunching her shoulders. Dr. Fenris had told her what he knew about the Hales, most of it being about their tragic end. A house fire. Now, standing there in front of it, she could almost hear the screams of those trapped inside, see the black wisps of smoke rise into the air, feel the heat of the fire as it consumed the structure and its occupants. An absolutely terrible way to die.<p>

It looked different than it had in the nighttime. Less baleful, more heartrending. She could clearly see the charred edges on mostly everything, the ash in the grass surrounding the structure, as well as resting inside of it. The sun, now falling, presented these things in such a way that made her bite the inside of her lip repeatedly. The ambience was one of unrest.

Her parents had been here, at some point. They'd perhaps walked upon the very ground she did, went to the house, maybe inside. They had memories of this place.

Doubt crept into Kayla's mind. Why was she here? The doctor had told her there wasn't much information she could gather from any living member of the Hale family now, since one was a fugitive, the other indisposed. The fact of the matter might've been that she knew one wasn't _exactly_ a fugitive. Although she'd seen him here first and last, this place was obviously abandoned.

The gun she'd tucked into her waistband was pressing into her back painfully. She pulled it out, flicked it on safety, but kept it in her hands. Scott and Stiles may have trusted Derek Hale, but Hell would freeze over before she did. At least, without a gun in possession. Though she had proven to him that, when under duress, she wasn't exactly a phenomenal shot.

Leaves crunched under her boots as she slowly made her way to the front door, which was surprisingly in fair shape. The doorknob worked, but the lock was busted. She shoved it open. It creaked ominously as small rays of golden sun met the shadowed interior.

More sadness welled up in her heart. What happy memories that had once thrived here were no longer, but replaced with interminable gloom. The part of the house to her left was where the most damage incurred. There was a staircase leading to the second story in front of her. She didn't dare try it.

Stepping inside cautiously, the floorboards groaned in protest under her feet. The gun felt even colder in her hand inside.

She'd only been four steps in when the door slammed shut behind her. Covering her mouth to muffle her scream, she knew he was there, behind her. Biting her lip hard, she turned to face him.

Compared to now, he'd looked like prince charming the last time she saw him. He stood in shadows, but she could make out his features perfectly. Lips pulled tight into a scowl, grey eyes like a predator, hands clenched into white fists. She couldn't help but imagine a Doberman on a very weak chain, growling viciously. It was a wonder he didn't come at her.

A heavy silence settled over them as he glowered at her. Kayla took several slow steps back, until she felt the banister of the staircase press into her spine. Her body was tremulous with fear.

"Derek Hale," she said quietly, flinching when she saw his dark eyebrows pull together with anger. She pressed harder against the banister. "You're Derek Hale."

"And you're either extremely stupid or extremely deaf. Scott told you not to come here." His eyes only narrowed.

It felt as if her lungs had filled with rock, making it hard to breathe. "Scott never said not to come here. He just said not to mention seeing you to anyone. And technically, I never agreed…"

"You couldn't get the implication out of that?" he said bitingly. "So you're extremely stupid, then. Leave. Now."

"No," she canted her head, holding her ground. She wondered how terrified she looked. "I'm not leaving yet. I need to talk to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you usually talk to people with a gun? Did it really seem like a good idea to come back, after last time? If you try shooting me again, I swear to God—"

"I didn't _try_ shooting you," she said defensively. She'd only just remembered she even had the gun in her hands and looked down at it sheepishly. "It just… happened. It's on safety this time."

Snorting, he laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, good. It's on safety. Then maybe you should_ return_ to safety and leave."

"So you're friends with Scott?" she blurted the question. "That's why you had him talk to me? To keep me quiet?"

His look darkened. "If I'd wanted to keep you _quiet_, I would have found more permanent ways. Scott was supposed to keep you afraid of talking."

"Afraid?" She was blank with confusion until her face creased with realization. "Because you're a 'fugitive.' He told me you're not. Or whatever. It hardly makes any sense."

"Leave before I lose my temper. I highly suggest it."

"Did you break into my house?" she asked, finding it in her to cross her arms. The thought of someone breaking in ticked her off enough to alleviate some of her fear.

"No," he said simply. "And if you'd leave and wait to talk to Scott, you'd know that. Except now I might kill him, so I wouldn't count on seeing him."

She studied Derek Hale curiously. He was wearing similar dark clothes again, almost actually blending into the shadows. "You can't really blame Scott. He doesn't know I'm here."

"Obviously," he spat. "Or he would have come to haul you away himself."

"Do you live here?"

"Will you leave or will I have to drag you out?" he countered.

"Did you know my parents?" Her voice was quiet, tired. Sad. It seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked at her.

"No," he said suddenly. "Now leave before—"

"But how could you know, for sure?" she interrupted, knowing full well she was probably pissing him off even more. "I haven't mentioned any names, what they looked like, or anything. That's why I'm here."

He was silent a moment, glaring. "I'm going to give you three more seconds to leave, and if you don't—"

"Your family wasn't normal," she said quietly, barely meeting his eyes. "That's the reason my parents were here. They knew that. I'm only asking if you knew them."

He went rigid. The look in his eyes was obscure, hidden. Kayla could barely breathe—she was terrified. But she wanted answers, and she didn't come all this way for nothing. Even as her heart pounded so hard, she could feel it in her temples, she held her ground. Was it a mistake to let him know that _she_ knew something about his family? Did that make him infinitely more dangerous? Though the diary had made note that not everyone in his family had been abnormal, she didn't know exactly how the genes had worked out for him. It hadn't even specified what _abnormal_ meant. She could just remember the entry closer to the end of the book, something about shifting and whatnot. It had never made much sense.

The must have dipped below the horizon, because she realized they were in complete darkness. Her eyes had adjusted as the shadows loomed in, allowing her to see well enough. From what she could tell, he had impeccable self control.

Finally, "What could you possibly know about my family?"

Her chest tightened with anxiety, and a lump formed in her throat. Still, the sadness of her surroundings affected her more. "I know what happened, here," she held her hands out. "The fire."

"You know nothing," he enunciated each word individually. "You're a fool, thinking you could get any answers from here. I don't know what you're looking for, but I suggest you leave it alone."

She raised an eyebrow, cautiously. "But you must know," she whispered. "Otherwise it wouldn't matter if I continued looking into things. You must know what happened to my parents, why they—"

"I told you, I don't!" His shout rattled her bones. He closed his eyes, slowing his rapid breathing.

Biting her lip, she fingered the safety on the gun. "I don't believe you."

His eyes were open, watching her fingers on the gun. "So what," he mused bitterly, "you'll shoot me if I don't tell you what you want to know? Is that how you do things?"

"No," she said frankly, a little perplexed at the thought. "But you do have a temper. It's for my own safety."

He shook his head, peeved. "As long as you're around here, you might as well consider yourself a beacon for perilous things. That gun isn't going to do you any good."

"And why not? What exactly am I up against?"

Her phone rang, suddenly, a harsh noise in the silence. Cringing, she pulled it out of her pocket. It was Stiles. She considered letting it go to voicemail, but since when did Stiles call her?

The moment she answered, his voice could be heard without even pressing her ear to the phone.

"Kayla? You there? Where are you? You left some books at my house, and—"

The phone was out of her grasp in a flash.

"Stiles," Derek growled into it. "You come and get your friend, got it? Then you, Scott, and I are going to have a seriously long talk."

They could hear Stiles sputtering on the other end. "_Derek?_" he finally managed, "What the _hell_—"

Derek ended the call, shoving the phone back in Kayla's face. She blinked at him, mouth slightly open. "What was that for?"

"You're going to leave," he snapped, forcing her to take the phone.

She threw her hands up, exasperated. "Okay, I don't know what your problem is with me, or if you come off this way with _everyone_ you encounter, but I _know_ you know something! My parents—they were researchers. They came here in 2004 looking for something. Apparently, that something was your family. Something about your family intrigued them and I don't know why, but they were _killed_ over it. Do you understand me? _Killed._ So now do you remember them, or will you still refuse a trip down memory lane because of some petulant thing you seem to have against me?" Stopping abruptly, Kayla was surprised by the lividness in her voice. She rarely ever went off on someone. Shrinking back into the banister, she felt remorse.

He was entirely impassive. Headlights passed through the windows in the house, signaling Stiles' arrival.

"Please," she whispered. "Just please, tell me what you know."

He stared at her until the front door opened, and a meek Stiles stepped over the threshold. He squinted into the dark. "Uh…" he began, his gaze flicking between the other two in the room. "This is awkward. Yo, Derek, what's…" he faded off, getting a death-glare out of Derek. Running a hand over his short hair, he muttered, "Right." His gaze fell on Kayla, and his eyes widened when he noticed the gun. Mouth hanging open in stupor, he failed to form a sentence.

"Stiles," Derek growled. "Get her out. Now."

"But—a _gun_? Kayla—we _told_ you he isn't actually a fugitive! Why do you have a _gun?_"

"It's okay Stiles," she said, her voice empty as she continued to stare into Derek's grey eyes. "It's not a big deal. Let's just go. This is useless."

She passed through the door without a glance back, heading towards the jeep. Stiles remained, avoiding Derek's gaze. "Well, this was an interesting day. In fact—"

Derek stepped into his face. "Keep your friend away from here. You and I are going to have a long talk. And call Scott. I swear, I'm going to kill him."

Stiles cringed away from Derek. "Yeah—I'll just be going."

Returning to the jeep with Kayla already in the passenger seat, staring sulkily at a dark copse of trees beside the house, Stiles regarded her solemnly before starting the jeep.

"What happened in there?" he asked quietly. "I mean, you went to Derek-freaking-Hale's house with a _gun_." He warily eyed the weapon resting in her lap. "What'd he do?"

"Nothing," she said without inflection. "He did absolutely nothing."

Stiles gaped at her. "What do you mean '_nothing_'? It sure didn't look like nothing!"

"Stiles," she whispered. "I'm sorry I came here. I just… never mind, it's a long story. Can you take me home now?"

He started the jeep, turning it around to head back down the forest-fenced path. Eyeing the gun again, he muttered, "I guess now's not the best time to ask you for a favor."

She laughed. Leave it to Stiles to break up a bad mood. "That depends on the favor."

"First," he said seriously, "If I don't text you later, I'd say about an hour from now, telling you that I'm alive, please send my father after Derek."

Rubbing at her weary eyes, she pondered this. "He did say he wanted to talk to you and Scott," she mused. "If you ask me, he doesn't seem like the talking type."

"Oh, he isn't," Stiles replied with a twinge of unease. "Unless he's barking threats. He prefers… intimidation."

She smirked. "You sound as if you're speaking from experience."

"I'm just surprised you managed to get out of there alive, mentally unscathed and all," he noted impressively.

"Well, what's his deal, anyway? I mean, yeah, it'd suck to have everyone believe you're a fugitive—_majorly_ suck. But that's not it, is it?"

Stiles was reluctant. "I'm sure it's part of it," he said, his voice rising in pitch.

"I'm sure it is. But it couldn't possibly be all of it—not with what happened to his family, and all. I can tell you from my own experience that it… goes pretty deep."

Eyes focused on the road ahead of him, he admitted, "I lost my mom. I mean it's not like losing both parents—well, in a way, my dad hasn't been the same since, so it sometimes feels like maybe I have—but I can understand."

"What was she like?"

He smiled reminiscently. "She was… amazing. She just always had this energy that was so captivating—so alive—"he broke off, his adoration settled into something grim.

Kayla was silent a moment, sad. "I wish I could have met her."

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm pleased to say I now have a very firm idea of where I'm taking this. I was a little iffy about this chapter, but it conveyed what I wanted (I think). Please let me know what you think!(-:<strong>


	5. Chapter 5 Suspicions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Thanks so much for the reviews—I love them all! You guys help me get re-focused. I've had a lot to do, lately!**

* * *

><p><strong>Five<strong>

_Suspicions_

School came too quickly for Kayla's preference. After Stiles had dropped her off at home Saturday night, she'd spent Sunday reinforcing doors and windows so no intruder could get in. Now, she was on her way to her locker before first period and saw that Allison was waiting for her with an impish grin.

"So," she started as Kayla rolled in her combination, "how was Stiles' house?"

Kayla rolled her eyes. "Well, it was a house on one of the many empty roads—"

Huffing, Allison nudged her arm. "You know what I mean."

"It was… interesting. Except for the part when I got teased for kissing him—oh, and I narrowly missed escaping before the sheriff came home. Yeah, it was _really_ interesting."

"Why are you avoiding the sheriff?" Allison asked curiously. "Because he saw you practically devour his son on the lacrosse field?"

Kayla glowered petulantly at her. "Yes. Thanks to _someone's_ idea."

"I don't think my idea can take _all_ the credit. You looked _more_ than into it."

"Allison!" Kayla whined. "I did _not_. I _was_ not. It was just a kiss."

"A kiss _you_ weren't an audience to, unlike the rest of the school. Everyone's been talking about it."

Just as the words left Allison's mouth, Kayla glanced up from her locker to see girls walking by, whispering elatedly as they passed. She huffed. "But no one even really knows who I am. I doubt they're actually talking about it." There was a skeptical pitch in her tone.

"Right," Allison said facetiously. "Because there's a better way to capture everyone's attention, other than dramatically walking out on the field to reassure your boyfriend with a passionate kiss. You're totally right. I bet no one noticed."

"He isn't my boyfriend!" Kayla's voice rose to a shout. A silence descended in the hallway as other students gave her furtive, disbelieving looks. She sighed, slamming her locker shut.

Allison was trying to suppress a smile. "So I'll change the topic before you draw even more attention to yourself." She laughed at Kayla's intense glare. "What do you think of coming over sometime this week? My parents want to have you over for dinner, and my aunt wants to meet you, too. Tomorrow sound okay?"

After a pause, Kayla said, "Tomorrow sounds good. They really want to have me over? I won't be intruding or anything?"

"Not at all! They _really_ want to meet you. Plus, we could totally go shoot some targets afterwards. I've been dying to get my bow out."

Kayla groaned. "I told you, it's probably not such a great idea to have me around those things. Bad things happen."

"I doubt it could be _that_ bad," Allison said with a laugh. "Actually, what are you doing after school, today? We could get some practice in, if it bothers you that much."

"Stiles is giving me a ride to the vet," Kayla said, her eyes on the floor. "Karma's ready to be picked up." When she raised her eyes, she found Allison barely suppressing a grin. She nudged her arm with a scowl. "It's not like that! He offered, because I don't exactly have room for a dog with a broken leg in _my_ tiny car!"

"Excuses, excuses," Allison teased. "Well I don't want to make you late for first period. Since you have it with Stiles and all."

Before Kayla could refute the comment, Allison had turned and headed off towards Econ. She watched her friend saunter down the hall and couldn't help but smile. She'd never really had anyone to talk about these sorts of things with back home.

Arriving to English just as the bell rang, Kayla darted between rows until she settled into her seat beside Stiles. She turned to greet him, but found his eyes studiously on the board instead. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she took in his taught shoulders, restless legs, and the pencil he annoyingly kept tapping on his notebook. Was he ignoring her? Why?

Turning to face Scott ahead of her, she tried getting his attention, but to no avail. It seemed he, too, was ignoring her. Only when Mrs. Crowther had stopped talking and hushed conversations had began around the room did the two boys break out of their silent trance.

Scott threw an uneasy glance over his shoulder, directed at Stiles. Kayla watched as Stiles tried flipping his book open, but it clumsily flew out of his hands, clattering to the floor beside her. As he was bending to pick it up, she, too, reached for it. Their fingers brushed. His eyes met hers until they flitted to the floor guiltily.

Kayla purposely picked up his book and set it on her desk, looking between the boys. "Guys? What's wrong?"

Stiles' cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to remain nonchalant, but she could see the strain in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"No, what do _you_ mean?" she asked, confounded. "Why are you two ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?"

Stiles looked to Scott, who gave Stiles a hard look in return. Scott turned to Kayla. "Nothing's wrong," he said with a shrug. "We weren't ignoring you."

"Right." She quirked up an eyebrow, her lips pursed. "So what's up then? Are you still giving me a ride to the vet after school, Stiles?"

"Uh… yeah," Stiles said, scratching at the back of his neck. "Yeah, of course. Said I would, right?"

"You did," she agreed. "But I have a feeling that that was under different circumstances. Seriously, what's wrong? Is it because I went to—"she stopped realizing she couldn't mention his name at school. Since he was a fugitive and all. "Because I confronted _him_? Did I get you guys in trouble or something?"

Scott gave her a dark look. "If you'd listened to me and just forgotten about him, I'm sure things would be better. You really didn't _help_ matters."

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely, her shoulders drooping. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. It's just—I—"_No_, she thought. _I can't even tell them._

"You what?" Scott inquired, almost harshly. "Why'd you even go there?"

The bell rang, filling the classroom with its shrill, resonating sound. Kayla stood abruptly, gathering her books, leaving Stiles' for him to retrieve. "Nothing," she said hastily, hurrying out. "It's nothing."

Stiles and Scott stared after her dubiously.

Kayla had deliberately avoided both Stiles and Scott the rest of the day, choosing to sit, (however treacherous it had been) closer to Lydia in Biology and completely skipped lunch altogether. She knew it must have been obvious by her behavior that something was up, but something was up with _them_, too.

A strange, unremitting feeling had wrapped itself around her heart ever since their brief conversation in English. No matter how it persisted, she felt her paranoia was unwarranted—it wasn't as if either boy had _meant_ to make her feel uneasy. It was simply the look in Scott's eyes as he had asked her why she'd gone to Derek's in the first place—a look of _knowing_. And it didn't sit right with her.

Of course, her elusiveness could only last for so long. She desperately needed Stiles to help her with Karma. There was no way to avoid it.

By the time she was headed out to the disorderly parking lot, her coil of unease was unraveling itself only to wrap into a tighter knot in her stomach. She could see him by the jeep, waiting patiently, if not somewhat with uncertainty, for her to arrive. His dark eyes were scanning the throngs of people leaving the school, his eyebrows pulled together almost remorsefully.

When his eyes finally rested on her, his features broke into something brighter, lessened of burden. Kayla crossed the parking lot to him timidly.

"I wasn't sure if you had a better offer or not," he said, sounding earnestly troubled. "I didn't want to leave without making sure—you know, because you don't have your car and all."

"Thanks," she said without much heart, getting into the passenger seat. He was already situated.

Stiles looked at her worriedly as he started the jeep. "About earlier in English—"

"It's okay." she met his eyes. "Not a big deal. I shouldn't have gone to Derek's in the first place. It obviously stirred up some trouble for you guys—I should have thought about that before anything else."

He sat back in the seat, frowning. "It's just—it's dangerous for you to know this. Allison doesn't know. No one does but me and Scott. And now you. You shouldn't take going to see him lightly. _He's_ dangerous. I mean, he's not a fugitive, but I think you've seen for yourself how… not exactly _stable_ he is."

Kayla offered him a small smile. "Worried about me? It's okay, Stiles. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I had a gun. I'd be extremely stupid to go there, unarmed."

Instead of being reassured, Stiles only looked more distressed. "You shouldn't go there at all. Especially not with a gun—people assume the wrong things, and then bad things happen."

"What's really wrong?" she asked in a quiet tone, catching his odd concern as more than distress. "People assume the wrong things? Like what?"

He shook his head, finally pulling out of the parking space as he headed towards the vet. "You just shouldn't hang around Derek. That's what I mean."

"But you obviously do," she pointed out reasonably. "What could be the harm?"

She wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but something expressively dark seemed to pass over his features.

"Like I said," he spoke quietly. "People assume the wrong things, and then bad things happen."

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the vet. What had before been a fleeting trip seemed to drag on forever. Kayla had studied Stiles' uncharacteristically grim features more than once, blushing every time he caught her staring. She was unnerved about his lack of ease, as if something were missing.

The lobby of the vet office was empty upon arrival. Kayla knew that Scott worked later on, so he wouldn't be around right now. Stiles seemed even tenser in the thick silence of the room. He flinched when Dr. Deaton rounded a corner, hands in the pockets of his modest lab coat. There was a bright smile on his face.

"Well, it's nice to see you two again," he greeted. "You can come on back. I already have Karma up on the examining table."

They followed him into the back room where the air smelled of cold metal mixed with the husky scent of animals. Karma lay obediently upon the metal table. Her leg was casted in a white material, a pitiful sight.

An instant swell of sadness formed in Kayla's heart. She went right over to her loyal friend and patted her head reassuringly. Watching as Dr. Deaton undressed the wound to clean it, she couldn't contain her curiosity.

"Can you determine what did this to her by looking at the wound?"

Dr. Deaton glanced up at her with surprise. "Scott told me that you thought a car hit her. That didn't happen?"

Scott told him? She'd never told Scott what happened. Stiles piped up behind her, catching her confused look. "I, uh, told Scott what you thought happened. He must have reiterated it."

Kayla nodded, but wasn't fully convinced. That coil around her heart tightened. She turned back to the vet. "I never saw or heard a car—I just assumed because I didn't really know what else could have done it. But by looking at it, can you tell if it was anything else?"

Dr. Deaton examined the wound meticulously, his plastic gloves barely grazing Karma's fur. After several quiet moments, he shrugged. "It looks to me like she _was_ hit by a car. If you look here," he pointed to the exposed ivory bone where the fur had been torn off but had already begun to heal, "you can tell that a bumper forcibly removed her fur."

Beside Kayla, Stiles seemed to stiffen. She glanced at him curiously, finding his eyes trained on Dr. Deaton, narrowed. The expression disappeared in a flash, and he blinked down at Karma like he'd just realized she was there. Kayla made no comment.

"Okay," she said to Dr. Deaton instead. "I just wanted to be sure. I really appreciate you going to all this trouble to help."

"It's not a problem," he said kindly. "Her leg should heal up nicely."

After getting Karma in the back of the jeep and bidding farewell to Dr. Deaton, Kayla and Stiles were headed back to her house.

Kayla looked curiously over at Stiles. "What was that in there?"

He blinked at her. "What was what?"

"The way you looked at Dr. Deaton after he said Karma was hit by a car," she clarified. "What was with that? Do you not like him?"

"I don't have anything against him," Stiles said simply, but with an odd tone. "It was nothing."

Kayla couldn't help but become extremely suspicious now. Something had been going on with Stiles at school, and now this too? She didn't believe in coincidences.

"Is he mean to Scott or something?" she pressed. "I wouldn't like my friend's boss if they weren't nice to them."

"Kayla," Stiles groaned. "It's nothing. Really." However, his tone was less than convincing.

"Has something backfired with Lydia?" she blurted. "Is that what this is about? Did I screw something up? Because you've been really strange all day."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Lydia? Why would you—_oh_—oh, right. No, nothing backfired with Lydia. I haven't exactly… had time to talk to her, yet. And I don't think I'm the _only_ one who's been strange all day." He gave her a pointed look.

"So I didn't feel like going to lunch," she said innocently. "So what?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. Kayla changed the subject back quickly. "What do you mean you haven't had a chance to talk to Lydia? You should have right after that game, or at least this morning."

"I was busy," he said absently, pulling into her small driveway. "There wasn't any time."

"Busy… or afraid?"

He gave her a dark look, his lips pulled into a tight line. "_Busy._"

"Uh-huh," was all she said as she hopped out of the car and waited for him at the back.

Stiles was quick to get Karma gently out of the back and on the ground, where she hobbled around the yard almost pitifully. He only said, "I'll see you tomorrow," before he left, and she watched him drive down the road until the jeep disappeared from sight. She still couldn't shake her suspicions that he wasn't telling her something; probably something important. But she had hardly earned any right to tell him that, frankly.

There was a shed out behind the house, containing some of Karma's things. Kayla headed to it, with Karma shuffling behind her keenly, to pull out a large, soft dog bed that should be gentle with her injured leg and some treats.

They returned to the house quickly. It seemed that the days continued to get shorter, because the sun was already beginning to stoop in the sky. Kayla pushed open the door and let Karma in first. She laid her armload down in the dim lighting to find a light switch. After flicking it on, she jumped, her heart beating rampantly in her chest.

Derek Hale leaned against the kitchen wall, watching her with his piercing gray eyes, arms folded over his leather jacket. He eyed the switchblade in her hands that she'd grabbed out of her boot upon initially realizing his presence.

Kayla stared at him, blinking. "I knew you broke in the first time," she said at last, vindictively. "What the hell? What are you doing here?"

He was completely unfazed, if not a little irked. "Are you gonna interrogate me every time you see me with a weapon? If you think it gets you cooperation, you're mistaken. It's more annoying than anything else."

She seethed. "Well _sorry_. I'm not used to returning home to find a _non-_fugitive broke into my house—again!"

"I told you, I never broke in."

"Right. The fact that you broke in today makes that completely believable. Totally."

She hadn't noticed Karma's demeanor until glancing at the dog that sat by the coffee table. Her dark eyes were calm, her tail didn't wag. This was unusual.

"Your door was open when I got here," Derek stated, growing more annoyed.

Her eyes went back to him. "I don't believe you. I locked it up before I left for school—it couldn't have possibly been open."

"Then don't believe me. But you left it open. Anyway, the security of your house isn't what I'm here for."

"Then what _are_ you here for?" She immediately thought back to Stiles' warning earlier that day about staying away from Derek. Her grip tightened on the switchblade.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes, as if he could hear her heart beat even faster in her chest. "It's not like I'm here to kill you."

"Why—"

"Because you wanted answers," he cut her off in that gruff tone. "And so do I."

She wasn't sure exactly what it was—maybe the dark glint in his eyes, the way he stood, the power that emanated off of him—but she knew this wasn't good. She swallowed hard, but her mouth went dry. Now she understood what Stiles had meant. Derek Hale was very dangerous, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? What could Derek possibly be thinking? What's up with Stiles and Scott? I'd love to hear what you think! (-:<strong>


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